


A Dragon Will Take Us Home

by AFCBrandon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Girl becomes Woman, Girl to Woman, Golden Company, Innocent!Dany, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Morally Ambiguous Character, R Plus L Equals J, Smol Season 1 Emilia!Dany, Smut, War Elephants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFCBrandon/pseuds/AFCBrandon
Summary: Arthur Dayne promised his Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, that he would protect Rhaegar and Lyanna's son. That he would train him for the day that Jaehaerys, or Jon Snow to the world, would return to reclaim the iron throne. Jon has the Golden Company pledged to his cause though he's been unaware as to why they follow him so loyally.Viserys plans to sell his sister for an army to reclaim what he believes is his birthright. Khal Drogo seems the most viable option, but Viserys can't seem to help and think the The Golden Company, led by a northern bastard, is a much more attractive optionCurrently being rewritten: CH 1 Rewritten 9/1/2019





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REWRITTEN: SEP - 1 - 2019
> 
> Story being rewritten. Not recommended to read past CH 1 until CH 2 is updated.
> 
> Aiming for a Guts type of character for Jon Snow. Much darker and willing to do unethical means to achieve his goals.

**283 AC**

Tower of Joy

Arthur Dayne stood outside the doorway as Lyanna Stark’s screams faded. She had been in labor for the better part of the day and had finally stopped screaming. It began early morning and Arthur would guess it was around three hours until the sun fell.

His sworn brothers, Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent, stood outside the tower while sharpening and oiling their swords. They were patiently waiting the arrival of Eddard Stark and his company of northerners. It had been three days when they received a raven that Lord Eddard had gotten wind that his sister resided in Dorne. It made Arthur angry, who could possibly have betrayed their location?

It mattered not, what was said had been said. There was no use in trying to follow ghost trails. Arthur walked down towards the entrance where his brothers were.

“Ser Arthur” Gerold Hightower greeted.

Whent simply nodded his head towards him.

“Brothers” Arthur replied with a nod towards the two of them.

Arthur stood as he gazed out towards the horizon, the heat of the sun beating down on his face. His brothers’ faces sheened with sweat, but Arthur was originally from this land. The Dornish heat did not affect him so.

“Lord Eddard should arrive soon” Hightower muttered.

Whent simply spat upon the ground.

“Damn that usurper dog. May they all choke on their stolen throne.”

Arthur slowly turned towards the man.

“Take care how you speak Whent. He is Lyanna’s brother. The same blood that runs in Lord Eddard runs in Lyanna. And her child as well.”

Whent had the decency to look sheepish as he turned away from Arthur’s hardened gaze. Arthur turned back to look at the plains out in front of him.

“We won’t win…” Hightower muttered.

Both Arthur and Oswell turned to their commander.

“What?” Whent questioned, “We most certainly can. We are the best swordsmen in the kingdom, Hightower. You are the white bull. Arthur is the sword of the morning. The northerners do not stand a chance against us.”

Arthur did not move from his spot or indicate anything, but he could not help but agree with Oswell. They were three of the best fighters that the kingdom had to offer. And though Ser Barristan had easily bent his knee, Arthur felt confident that, with his two brothers beside him, they’d be victorious.

Hightower simply shook his head.

“I know we can beat them Whent. But what then?”

Gerold’s voice grew as he walked in front of them.

“We beat the Northerners here. And what then?”

Arthur could not answer him. Oswell, the slower of the three, simply continued his course.

“Then we crown the child as the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, Hightower. As simple as that.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. No man could be this hotheaded and brash.

“Oh” Hightower chuckled “as simple as that? And who would support our claim, you brainless buffoon?”

Oswell looked struck.

“That damned Tywin Lannister has taken King’s Landing. That usurping bastard sits the throne. Queen Rhaella has fled to Dragonstone and the last remnants of the Targaryen army blockades the island in protection. The Iron Islands await to pillage once again. Dorne is in disarray at what has happened to Elia and her children. The ever so loyal Mace Tyrell” Hightower sneered “has bent his knee. He could not successfully flush out Stannis Baratheon when the odds were in his favor. Eddard Stark lifted the siege. Eddard Stark rides here right now! So, tell me, Whent, what do we do after we defeat the northerners?”

Both brothers looked at Hightower in silence.

“Then what would you have us do?” Arthur questioned.

“The only thing I can see happening.” Hightower replied.

Both men looked at him in confusion.

“Arthur” Hightower said softly.

The man in questioned simply straightened his back.

“I want you to take the child and ride away from here.”

“What?!” Oswell started.

“Quiet!” Hightower cut off. “Arthur” he said sharply, turning around to face the dornishman. “I want you to take the child and ride away from here. If the child is to ever take the kingdom once again, then we need as much support as possible. Dorne will never support the child’s claim. The child is proof of Rhaegar’s infidelity to Elia. And after what happened to her…”

The White Bull shook his head in disgust.

“No. We need support. We need the North. Eddard Stark must live. Do not start with me Whent. I grow tired of your useless interjections. Eddard Stark loves his sister. He rides here on the basis that he believes she can still be saved. I am no fool. She’s been in labor for too long. She will not survive the day.”

“Then why don’t you come with me?” Arthur blurted out.

Gerold simply laughed to himself.

“Come now Arthur, use your head. I want you to ride away from here, preferably to either Sunspear or Spottswood. There you will await Eddard Stark to arrive.”

“What? Are you insane Hightower? Why in the seven hells would I wait for Eddard Stark to reach me if I am meant to run away.”

“Because he’ll be alone Arthur. That is why I am meant to stay here with Whent. The man loves his sister. It is partly as to why he readily went to war. He will ride here with the best swordsmen he can muster. He will ride here, and we will give them the fight of our lives. I am no fool Arthur. I know I will not leave this tower alive. However, I spent my life fighting with a Targaryen on the throne. If giving my life can ensure that another seats it once again, then that is what I will do. I swore to give my life for the royal family. Turn around Arthur. The child that was just born in that tower. That is my ruler. Do this for me Arthur. Do you see this Arthur?”

Gerold pointed to the sigil engraved on his breastplate. To the sigil engraved on Oswell’s breastplate. And the sigil engraved on Arthur’s breastplate. The three headed dragon of House Targaryen.

“We swore our lives to this. All of us. You are the best among us Arthur. You have to protect Rhaegar’s seed. Our prince who was meant to take the throne after this damned war was over. You were there with us. When we swore we would see him on it, but now our prince is dead, Arthur. And his wife, Lyanna, dies from child fever. Who but you can protect his child? You were Rhaegar’s confidant. Lyanna’s friend. And you will be their child’s protector. You will be their Kingsguard, Arthur.”

Tears leaked from Arthur’s eyes at this point.

“Gerold” he choked out.

“Kneel” he said.

Arthur did so.

“Ser Arthur Dayne” Gerold Hightower said with authority. Arthur looked up. “Do you swear to follow my commands? Do you swear to protect Rhaegar’s child from all harm? To guide them? To advise them? To help lead them back to take their rightful throne?”

Arthur closed his eyes as he nodded fervently. Tears still leaking out of his tightly shut eyes.

“Then rise Ser Arthur” Hightower commanded.

Arthur rose to his feet. His tall frame slightly lower than The White Bull’s.

“From this day forward, I name you Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Now go, Ser Arthur. And fulfill your duty.”

Arthur simply nodded at his commander. He looked to his other brother. Oswell walked up to him and grabbed him by both shoulders and touched their foreheads together.

“Go brother” he said.

And he did. Arthur turned around and ran up to the tower where his friend lay. To where the wails of Rhaegar’s child sounded.

He ran into the room and saw as the midwives handed over the wailing child to its mother.

Arthur slowly and shakily made his way over to them.

Lyanna looked up and noticed him through tired eyes.

“Arthur” she said weakly.

He was closer now. Almost to them.

“Look” she said smiling “isn’t he beautiful.”

Arthur stopped.

_He_

Arthur looked down at the whimpering babe within her arms. His wails dying down as he nestled into the warm arms of his mother’s embrace. Small wisps of dark hair upon his head. And as he opened his eyes, Arthur sucked in a breath. Eyes so grey they almost looked black. They reminded him of Rhaegar’s eyes. His deceased friend’s eyes had been such a dark shade of indigo that they almost looked a dark grey.

This was his son. This was Arthur’s King.

Arthur swallowed.

“Does he have a name?”

Lyanna simply smiled as she cooed at her boy.

“Jaehaerys” she responded.

Arthur nodded. A good name. The name after a wise and old king.

Arthur hesitated as he knew what he had to do. Even if she wailed and fought with him, Arthur would leave with the crown prince.

“Lyanna” he started. She looked up at him, with her silver-grey eyes. Waves of dark brown hair framed her face.

“I must take him away” Arthur said.

He felt a stab of pain in his heart when he saw his friend’s eyes widen as she became frantic.

“What?” she said. “No…no. No! You can’t! You can’t take him! He’s my babe.”

Jaehaerys began to wail in her arms as he heard his mother’s screams. Tears began to pour out of Lyanna’s eyes as the midwives watched the scene with a hand on their mouths. They couldn’t believe a man to be cruel to rip away a babe from his mother after he had just been born. Arthur steeled himself.

“Lyanna” he said sharply. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place. She looked at him through her tears as Jaehaerys continued to cry in her arms. “Your brother Eddard rides here in haste. He is almost upon us.”

“Ned?” Her sobs died down. “he’s here?”

“No” Arthur replied “but he’ll be here soon. That’s why I’m taking Jaehaerys with me.”

“No” she sobbed. “Ned will keep him safe. I know he will”

They were wasting time. The longer the conversation went, the sooner that Eddard would arrive with his men. Arthur prayed that Rhaegar would forgive him from the grave and that Lyanna would when she joined him. He leaned over her and wrenched the babe from her arms. In turn, Jaehaerys began crying even harder.

“Arthur” she wailed “don’t do this. Please.”

“Lyanna. Listen to me. If I stay here, I cannot let the man that sided with Robert Baratheon near Rhaegar’s son. Not with all his men.”

Lyanna’s sobs continued but she looked at him in attention and focus.

“If I stay here, I’ll kill him. You know I will. But if I go, then he has a chance at living. Gerold and Oswell will take out as many as they can. If your brother was good enough to survive this war. To survive the Battle of the Bells and The Trident, then I believe he may come out on top. If I stay here, he’ll be in the ground.”

Lyanna whimpered as tears continued to stream down her face.

“Please, just let me hold him. One last time Arthur. Just one last time.”

Arthur nodded with soft eyes.

He handed Jaehaerys back to Lyanna. He stood back as he watched mother and son interact with each other one last time. After she kissed the babe’s forehead, she handed him back to the Dornish night.

“Protect him for me, Arthur. You’ll tell him about me one day, won’t you Arthur? Won’t you?”

“I will” he nodded.

She nodded in response as she curled herself into the blood-stained bed and sobbed to herself.

The time was now.

He turned to the two midwives in the room.

“Which one of you is the wet nurse?” he asked.

Both women looked at him in frozen fright. Arthur’s patience was wearing thin.

“Quickly” he barked.

Both women regained their senses as one of them approached him. She had pale skin with yellow hair like wheat. Soft brown eyes.

“I am, ser. Wylla, ser, is my name.”

Arthur nodded.

“You’ll come with me. You will nurse the boy until we reach our destination. Is that understood?”

Wylla nodded.

“Good. Then let us hurry. The northerners will be on us soon.”

As they made their way out of the room, Arthur turned to the remaining midwife.

“Spottswood” Arthur said. The woman looked at him in confusion. “Should Eddard Stark survive like I think he will, tell him that I went to Spottswood. I will take a ship there from the port and sail for Tyrosh. The boat will sail in a fortnight. If he has not met me there by that time, I will have assumed that I thought wrong and he fell here.”

The woman looked at him before nodding.

“Spottswood” she repeated.

Arthur nodded, satisfied.

He looked at Wylla and signaled for her to follow. Arthur turned on his heel and walked out of the door, away from his King’s mother. And his friend.

**One fortnight later**

Spottswood

Arthur currently stood on the boat that was making its way to depart to Tyrosh. It had been a fortnight since he left The Tower of Joy. He had made a detour to Starfall to say goodbye to his family before heading off once again to Spottswood. He arrived under darkness and stayed hidden at a tavern where he slept in a room that he shared with Wylla as she took care of Jaehaerys.

Arthur slept on the floor at nights but mainly spent his days in the tavern awaiting word that a certain northern lord had made his way towards them.

For a week he heard no word. Until he did. There was talk that Eddard Stark rode with haste towards Spottswood with another companion, Howland Reed. He had spent a week making plans to send the bodies of his northern companions to their families. Along with the bodies of his sworn brothers…and his sister.

Arthur knew she would not survive her fever, but he still silently wept at the loss of a friend and his brothers. However, Arthur was sure that Lord Stark would arrive in a few days’ time if he rode with the haste that Arthur had heard of. As the end of the fortnight neared, Arthur began to fear that Eddard Stark had recruited more men to meet him at the docks and he began to wonder if he should skip the agreement and set sail as soon as possible.

Though, he couldn’t. He planned to part from Wylla so she could make way to Starfall where she could serve as a wet nurse or midwife there. She and his sister, Ashara, had taken to one another and had become friends in the brief days that Arthur stayed. However, the new wet nurse that Arthur had hired was scheduled to arrive the day he had initially planned to leave. Arthur cursed himself for jumping the fire and making plans ahead of time. Arthur prayed that Eddard Stark was honorable to arrive alone.

But, the day to sail had finally come. The wet nurse he had hired, a beautiful olive-skinned woman with a nicely sized bosom, had arrived. She claimed to be from Volantis which struck Arthur as odd. He had never known the Volantes’ to employ wet nurses. He became paranoid, but, after sending Wylla away an hour before the woman arrived, he knew he had no choice but to trust her. Arthur hated how much faith he began to rely on the people he surrounded himself with.

The captain of the ship had informed Arthur that they were ready to make way to Tyrosh when the docks suddenly became quiet at the two figures that approached.

Arthur whipped his head around as he placed a defensive hand upon Dawn. The men around him began to tense, the Volantes woman clutched Jaehaerys to her chest as the figures approached them. He knew whom it was.

Lord Eddard Stark had arrived. The black direwolf on a white fielded banner was unmistakable. As was the short man beside him that Arthur had met at the tourney of Harrenhal. Howland Reed.

Arthur looked around to see if any more men had accompanied them, but he found no one. When he looked behind them, Arthur suddenly realized as to why Eddard had taken a long journey to Spottswood. A wagon that held a coffin was being pulled by two destriers. Eddard Stark was personally taking the body of his sister with him.

“I looked for you on the Trident” Eddard said in his gruff, northern accent.

“I was not there” Arthur replied.

“Rhaegar lies beneath the ground. Why weren’t you there to protect your prince?” Eddard asked.

“My prince wanted me elsewhere.”

“The Mad King is dead. Ser Jaime slew him with a golden sword.”

“Aerys was past his ruling days. I’m sure Ser Jaime had his reasons.”

Eddard had paused at that statement clearly not expecting such a response from one of the most honorable men in the seven kingdoms. Howland recovered for him.

“I arrived with Lord Eddard to relieve the siege on Storm’s End. The armies quickly dipped their banners and pledged their allegiance. We thought you might be among them.” Howland said.

“My knee does not bend easily” Arthur replied.

Eddard had taken control once again.

“Ser Willem Darry has fled to Dragonstone along with Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”

“Ser Willem is noble and true, but he is not of the Kingsguard. I swore a vow. I do not flee.”

The dockworkers looked upon the scene in silence; the captain of the vessel heading towards Tyrosh looked upon the scene in fear; Eddard and Arthur stared at one another for what seemed decades.

“Where’s my nephew” he finally said.

As if the Gods willed it, Jaehaerys began to whimper in the arms of the Volantene woman.

Arthur simply stood to the side to allow Eddard Stark a view at the whimpering babe. Eddard’s gaze softened as he stepped forward to the woman.

Arthur’s right hand quickly found the hilt of Dawn as stepped to the northerner. Howland reached for a dagger as Eddard raised a hand to stop his friend.

“Come now” Eddard said “I have no desire to harm my blood. Put away your blade. Even if I had the audacity to be a kinslayer, only a fool would make the attempt when a babe is being guarded by Ser Arthur Dayne.”

Arthur relaxed his hand as Howland did the same. Arthur prayed that he wasn’t making a mistake as Eddard neared the child. The Volantene woman instinctively clutched the babe to her breast in a protective manner. Arthur felt grateful and any fears he held of her were quickly fading away.

“Let me hold him” Eddard told her softly.

The woman looked to Arthur for confirmation. He simply nodded his response.

As the lord took the babe into his arms, the whimpering began to cease. For a brief moment, Arthur entertained the idea of allowing the boy to be raised by his uncle. That thought was quickly expelled from his mind. He made a vow to Gerold Hightower. Arthur would raise the boy and eventually return to reclaim the iron throne.

“My sister told me his name is Jaehaerys” he said softly.

“That is correct” Arthur replied.

Eddard nodded. Suddenly he looked at Arthur with fierce determination.

“I’m going to raise him.”

Arthur simply stared at him.

_The audacity of this man_

Arthur sneered.

“Will you now?”

“Yes” Eddard nodded.

“And why would I let you do that?”

Eddard simply looked at him in shock.

“I thought… You called me here…” he looked down at the babe in his arms.

Arthur let out a humorless laugh.

“What? That the reason I called you here was so that you could take the child? It seems I’ve overestimated you, Lord Stark.”

“Then why? I can keep him safe. I can raise him.”

“And just how would you do that” Arthur questioned.

“I can pass him off as my son.”

“You would pass off your sister’s son as your bastard?” Arthur asked him slowly.

When Eddard nodded, Arthur quickly unsheathed his sword and placed the edge of his blade to the throat of the northern lord in front of him. He heard Howland Reed step towards him from behind, but Arthur had the advantage.

“Stay right where you are Lord Reed” he said in a low voice “one more step and you’ll find yourself looking for _another_ warden of the north. Though, if you take one more step, Greywater Watch will be looking for another Lord as well.”

He heard Howland spit on the ground, but the little lord made no attempt at moving closer. For good measure, Arthur tiptoed to his side, still with his blade aimed at Eddard’s neck, so he could have both men in his line of vision.

“I don’t know what your endgame is Lord Stark. But I do hope you don’t actually think your whoring friend will sit the throne forever.”

Eddard’s eyes widened.

“You…you plan to retake the throne?”

“Of course,” Arthur scoffed “I am sworn to the Targaryen name.”

“The Targaryens are gone” Eddard protested.

Arthur looked down to Jaehaerys.

“Not all of them” Arthur whispered.

Eddard Stark shook his head.

“And who would support him? He has only his name. You would torment the boy to a life of fleeing assassins?”

Arthur looked down before raising an eyebrow.

“I must say Lord Stark. You have swayed me.”

Eddard gave a brief smile to the Kingsguard in front of him.

“I will call him Jon Snow.”

Eddard frowned.

“Jon, for the name of Rhaegar’s good friend Jon Connington. It also must mean something for you. Jon Arryn fostered you of course. Snow. For the love of his mother whose heart I broke when I wrenched him from her arms. He has her look.” Arthur nodded at his decision.

“Aye” Eddard responded. “He’ll grow with my children as if he were their own brother.”

Arthur laughed.

“You have a candid sense of humor Lord Stark” Eddard continued to frown at him. “I’m naming him Jon Snow because you made me realize the danger he’d face in Essos. Fleeing every day for his family name. No, I promised that I would raise him to retake the throne and I will. And you know the best part Lord Stark?”

Eddard shrunk under his gaze.

“What” Eddard said.

“You’re going to help him” Arthur smiled. “Oh, yes. You will help Jaehaerys take the throne. You will remain close to the Riverlands and The Vale. And when it is time for us to return to these shores, you will pledge the North in his name.”

“And why would I do that?”

Arthur smiled cruelly at the lord of Winterfell.

“Because you owe it to him. Because of you, he will grow up without even a single parent. Because you declared war, Lyanna was forced to give birth in secrecy. Away from any maester in the land. It resulted in the death of his mother. Rhaegar was forced to answer the call of battle and was slain by your usurper friend. It resulted in the death of his father. You owe it to him.”

“No” Eddard muttered weakly “they killed my father and brother. It’s not my fault”

“Yes, it is. She told me how it was _you_ that brought the betrothal to your father. You caused all this Lord Stark. This is _your_ fault. Now. Hand. Me. Jaehaerys.”

Eddard could only comply as tears leaked from his eyes. Arthur cradled the babe in his arms as he slowly walked backwards to the ship.

“I will stay in contact Lord Stark. Fret not. You have not seen the last of your nephew. Or the Sword of the Morning. Captain” Arthur bellowed.

The man in question yelped as he turned his attention to the tall man.

“I believe we’ve wasted enough time. We must head to Tyrosh with haste.”

The man nodded as he ordered his men to get ready for sail. And as the vessel left the harbor, Arthur grasped one of Jaehaerys’ chubby arms and maneuvered it to wave goodbye at the weeping man on the harbor.

“Say goodbye to your uncle, my king” Arthur cooed.

Jaehaerys simply babbled as saliva ran down his chin.

Arthur smiled down at the babe until the wet nurse from Volantis snuck behind him.

He gave a slight jump as he twirled around to face her.

“Hello” she said “I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves. I am Sevanna.”

Arthur finally took the time to take in the woman’s features. She was tall, not as tall as him but taller than the average Westerosi woman. She had brown waves of hair to frame her face, striking green eyes with seductive plump lips painted red. Her nose was thin and her eyebrows long and angled. Her chin came into a softly squared point with a hint of a cleft. Her cheekbones high. Arthur could almost mistake her for a noblewoman.

“Sevanna…?”

She smiled.

“Only Sevanna”

“Well, ‘Only Sevanna’, I’m Ser Arthur Dayne.”

“Yes” she smiled “I believe I figured that out when you referred to yourself as “The Sword of the Morning” earlier with your rather heated conversation.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned.

“It is my title” he offered weakly.

She threw her head back to laugh. It was a sweet melodic laugh that brought a smile to Arthur’s handsome features. He felt he could stare at her forever until the babe in his arms began to squirm before letting out a weak cry.

Sevanna quickly moved towards him to take young Jaehaerys into her arms.

“I think our little Jon is hungry.”

The blush Arthur had before was nothing compared to the redness that overtook his entire face. He could feel the heat of his blood warm his features as he saw Sevanna pull her dress below her breast as she positioned Jaehaerys to suckle. Sevanna cooed as she swayed her body in a slow tempo causing Jaehaerys’ eyes to close slowly.

Arthur berated himself internally at his maidenlike actions. It was not uncommon to see a bare woman in Dorne, but there was something taboo about just the two of them along with the suckling babe at her breast.

“Jaehaerys” Arthur blurted out quickly.

“Hm?”

“His name. It’s Jaehaerys.”

Sevanna rolled her eyes.

“I am quite aware. However, you said to keep him safe, his name would be Jon Snow. I believe it would be wise to refer to him as such from now on, don’t you think?”

Arthur simply nodded his head. That made sense, it almost made him want to bash his head into a wall. How could he be so careless as to refer the king by his rightful name around sailors? He hoped to the seven that no one would blurt a word.

“Aye” Arthur said. “Jon”

Sevanna nodded.

“Excuse me” she said. Arthur turned his attention to her. “I find myself rather tired as well, could you lead me to my quarters so I could sleep along with Jon?”

Arthur nodded. He had surveyed the vessel earlier, learning the layout. Sevanna and Jon’s room were located directly next to his. As he led her, she asked him deep lying questions.

“So, you plan to raise an army for him. How do you plan to do that?”

Arthur merely looked back at her.

“I don’t know” he responded truthfully.

“You don’t know?” she raised an eyebrow. “Then what was all that talk back there?”

“I made an oath to my commander. I swore that I would raise the boy and help him retake the throne. I knew that could not be possible with Lord Stark. The damn man is too honorable, he would most likely treat the boy as a bastard without every telling him who he is for fear of betraying his friend. This way, I have forced his hand. Friendship or family. However, that still doesn’t guarantee his allegiance. Should Eddard Stark choose his friend, then Jae-Jon will need a separate army ready to go. Though, I don’t know how I plan to do that”

Sevanna rolled her eyes.

“You men. Always thinking with your steel rather than your brain. Honestly, coming to Essos is possible the worst way to raise an army.”

Arthur stayed quiet.

“Only Braavos has a true military. Though it is only backed by the Iron Bank. All the other cities there rely on mercenaries to wage war and defense.”

Arthur stopped.

“Mercenaries…” he whispered.

They had finally reached her door.

“Yes. Mercenaries. They fight for gold. I thought an anointed knight would know that.”

Arthur waived away the insult.

“I think I found the perfect army.”

“What?”

“Mercenaries” He responded.

“Mercenaries?”

“Yes. Mercenaries. They fight people. I thought someone who grew around them for defense would know that” he teased.

Sevanna’s face burned at the remark.

“Whatever. And how will you convince a mercenary group to help you. They all fight for gold and I rather doubt you have more than needed for this journey. Unless you’re hiding a cities worth to hire them somewhere.”

Arthur shook his head.

“There’s a certain mercenary group. They were founded by an exiled Westerosi. They have a prophecy. A prophecy that one day, a dragon will take them home.”

Sevanna looked on in intrigue.

“And who is this mercenary group?”

Arthur simply smiled at her.

“Possibly the most famous mercenary group to every exist.”

**299 AC**

Pentos

“I urge you to reconsider, your grace. Khal Drogo leads the largest Khalasar to ever exist. With this betrothal, you will have secured forty thousand men to retake the throne!”

Illyrio Mopatis. A fat man that was adorned in exquisite robes and an assortment of jewels. He had plotted for years to raise his place in society and he found no better opportunity than to be Master of Coin of Westeros. Of course, that plan relied heavily on a Targaryen to sit upon the iron throne. He was currently conversing with one of said Targaryens but that Targaryen in question was making his utmost best in ruining all of Illyrio’s plans.

“I will not rest my invasion on the backs of these Dothraki savages!”

Viserys Targaryen. An entitled man who rested his claim solely on his family name. It was quite easy to manipulate him, Illyrio found no hesitance in bending him unknowingly to his will. He had fed him false lies over the year when he had taken in the boy, along with his sister, and was making great progress towards his goal.

Illyrio knew that Viserys would never seat the throne, that right belonged to the child that would save them all. “Aegon Targaryen”, whom was actually a Blackfyre. Illyrio knew that it was a risk to try and pass off his own son as the trueborn son, and heir, of Rhaegar Targaryen. Especially so when he conspired with the spider to garner the support of the fallen Aegon’s family in Dorne. The boy certainly had the features of Old Valyria, but he did not know if the young Aegon was also similar or if he had been born with the sun-kissed features of House Martell. He severely hoped that Varys knew what he was doing. 

The Spider exuded nothing but confidence in his plan and machinations, which is why Illyrio had monitored the known Targaryen siblings and fostered them in his manse for over a year, nearing two. The plan at first was fairly simple, marry off Daenerys Targaryen to “Aegon” to nullify any doubts of his claim (while getting rid of Viserys discreetly) and push for them to take Westeros with the Golden Company at their beck. However, those plans were quickly beginning to waste when Jon Connington, who was unaware of the charade, was royally fucked their plans by failing to take control of the famous sellsword band.

Ser Arthur Dayne, the sole survivor of Aerys’ Kingsguard, other than Ser Barristan, had taken control of the company and had pledged them to a bastard boy. The Sword of the Morning had killed the former commander of the company and dared anyone else to challenge him for leadership. Of course, no one in their right state of mind had dared to take him on. They had all bent their knees in loyalty. Connington had fled, along with Young Griff, to Pentos. Varys was not pleased with the results and had then ordered him to travel further East with the mission of uniting as many bands of sold swords as he possibly could.

A few years later, as soon as the bastard that accompanied Arthur Dayne had turned four and ten, Ser Arthur had pledged the entire company under the boy’s leadership. It was a breaking point and it was challenged by a captain of the company, Harry Strickland. He had openly claimed that the Dornish knight had lost his mind and that the sellswords would never do the bidding of a nameless bastard with no notable heritage. And while the notion that Arthur Dayne had lost his mind was completely true to Illyrio, his skill with the blade was as fine as ever. Strickland did not last more than a few seconds before he was slain.

Ser Arthur had then gathered all the captains in a secret meeting. No one knows what had been said, but the captains had openly bent their knees to the feet of the bastard and the entire company had soon followed.

Now the bastard had control of 20,000 men. All mounted on horses, along with 50 elephants armored for war. A bastard was now the most powerful man in all of Essos. Only the Dothraki could hope to challenge the bastard, but the boy had shown his prowess before in battle. From what Illyrio had heard, the boy had outsmarted a Khal in battle when they had faced off at the gates of Norvos. Completely overhyped in his opinion, Norvos was the worst possible battleground for the Dothraki to meet him. It was surrounded by rocky landscapes and the streets that led there were uneven. Without an open field, the Dothraki were practically led to slaughter.

Still, he had garnered the respect of every person in power in all of the free cities of Essos. Lady Mellario, the wife of Prince Doran, had even offered herself to the boy. Things did not happen as many expected it would, and it was unknown if it was due to the boy’s chivalry or his mother’s protectiveness.

After hearing that the bastard had denied the woman, every young girl swooned and sighed at the possibility of being the one to capture this bastard commander’s heart. Every girl except one. Young Daenerys. If there was one thing that Illyrio was thankful for about Viserys Targaryen, the he would be thankful for Viserys’ idiocy and prejudice. The boy believed every bastard to be lesser and born of sin and every northerner to be a barbarian on par of those born in the Dothraki Sea. The young girl shook in fear at the mention of his name. It could prove useful to Illyrio, but of course that damned Viserys was set on ruining Illyrio’s plans.

“My King” Illyrio started sweetly “this bastard boy is no better. He is of Northern blood; his last name is a testament to that. He is no better than the Khal and with less men at that.”

Viserys would not hear it.

“I know what the bastard is Illyrio. However, his men are true knights that ride upon fearless horses. They lack the proper leadership and _I_ will be the one to lead them to glory. Furthermore, he defeated a Khal at the gates of Norvos did he not? That should be a testament as to how utterly useless the horsefuckers are. No, I will have the Golden Company at my side. Send word to the bastard. Tell him my offer.”

Viserys turned to leave. Illyrio saw his plans crumbling before him. He used the only trick up his sleeve.

“But Khal Drogo has already been informed” he blurted out. “He will be here on the morrow.”

It was the truth. Illyrio had jumped the fire and contacted the Khal about the marriage proposal between him and young Daenerys. He was to come and view her as she was presented to him and the Khal would decide. The girl was shy and meek. No doubt the battle-hardened Khal would enjoy breaking her beauty in. However, the blasted prince of Pentos had contacted the bastard for a contract and now the bastard commander was camped by the beach outside the city. He brought his entire army of sellswords including his war elephants.

“What? A decision was made without the consent of the rightful King?”

Viserys eyes had become slits as he approached Illyrio.

“My King, I only meant to secure a valuable asset for your cause. I knew you planned to marry your sister for an alliance, and I thought what better option than the vast numbers that Khal Drogo could offer?”

Viserys was appeased for only a moment. Illyrio hoped that he would agree with his decision.

“No matter. I know that the bastard is camped outside the city. I heard his elephants a mere hour ago. Send word to him. And inform him of the savage that dares steal his future bride.”

Viserys turned on his heel and made no room for further conversation. Illyrio sighed. He could possibly take out the prince, but that would no doubt ensure that the young girl would break any loyalty she had to him. The girl feared her brother but held some sort of idolization for him. How queer it was to Illyrio.

He called to one of his servants.

“I need to draft a letter. However, you will deliver this tomorrow.”

Yes, Illyrio would contact the bastard but not with haste. Illyrio would contact him at the last possible moment, just as the screams of Khal Drogo’s Khalasar were heard. Only then would the letter arrive to the bastard commander’s notice. Illyrio did not know how dangerous this Jon Snow was to their plans, but the spider had made it abundantly clear that the bastard could _never_ come in contact with any of the Targaryen children. Much less the princess.

“A letter to who, magister?” his servant asked.

“To the commander of the Golden Company. Jon Snow.”

**The Next Day**

Outside Pentos

Jon Snow sat in his war tent that overlooked the narrow sea. He currently had a table set up where he was seated along with his captains. Arthur Dayne had the right to sit at his right hand. Black Balaq, the captain of the archers sat directly next to Arthur. Balaq was a master archer that hailed from the Summer Isles. He had white hair and skin as black as soot. That’s all Jon knew, Balaq never disclosed his past to anyone.

To Jon’s direct left, an empty chair reserved for his best friend. Seated next to the empty chair was Ser Marlon Manderly, cousin to Wyman Manderly. Marlon was the captain guard of White Harbor before he grew tired of the dull life and instead sought to join the Golden Company where he heard an exiled Northerner had come to be best friends with the commander of the company, who also had northern blood flowing through him. When Ser Marlon had joined over a year ago, he had sworn that he had seen the exact visage of Eddard Stark. Jon turned to Arthur who had a thin frown on his face. That was the first time Arthur had told him a bit of his mother and father. Arthur had assured him that Eddard was not his father. Though, Marlon swore it to this day that Jon had Stark blood flowing in him. Marlon’s ambitions had proven to be fruitful as he had been promoted a moon’s past to be the company’s paymaster after Jon had executed Gorys Edoryen, the former paymaster, for plotting against him.

Seated next to Marlon was Nithral, the captain of the spearmen. Nithral was a tall and burly warrior from Sothoryos. The interesting part of Nithral was that he wielded a war axe but claimed that he had experience training spearmen. His word had proven true and was rewarded with a seat on Jon’s war council. Seated directly in front of Nithral, and next to Balaq, was Lysono Maar. Lysono was responsible for discovering Gorys’ treason and although he had no business on the battlefield, Jon’s war council also served as a council where the captains could come together and bring forth ideas for the future. They all debated what contracts were worth picking and Lysono was vital in helping determine what was a trap and what wasn’t. He had the look of Lyseni, with his pale lilac eyes and long hair spun of white-gold that was usually covered by a garb.

Two other men sat on opposite ends. One each. One seated next to Nithral and the other next to Lysono. Rakharo, a young Dothraki screamer that had joined with Jon’s camp after Jon had defeated his Khal, Khal Ramo, at the gates of Norvos. Rakharo was a fierce warrior that fought with a whip as well as an arakh, but what had garnered Jon’s attention was his way with horses. Jon had ordered Rakharo to learn the common tongue and when Rakharo had, Jon had made him the captain of the horses. It seemed a pitiful job to outsiders, but it was a great honor to Rakharo. As it should be. The knights of Jon’s company had initially met him with scorn, but it had slowly turned to respect. Rakharo did not back down from a fight and he was the one the made sure the lone horses without riders were ready and broken in for any knight that lost a horse during battle. The company respected the young Dothraki and Jon couldn’t help but think that this was the way the world should be. Not determined by blood, but by the hard work one put into their trade. Rakharo earned his spot next to Lysono.

Seated across from Rakharo, and next to Nithral, was Lagras, a Ghiscari warrior that had taken to riding elephants for Volantis. He immediately became Jon’s captain of the elephants when he joined shortly after Ser Marlon.

“To think” Marlon started “that the damn Pentos Prince would waste our time by inviting us here when the contract is in Myr!”

“I must say, I did not expect the prince to be arrogant enough to waste our time with this journey. Though, one must think he’s setting us into a trap” Nithral put in with a gruff voice.

Jon turned to his spymaster.

“What do you say Lysono? Does this smell of trickery to you?”

Lysono met his gaze and simply shook his head.

“It is possible commander, I hear Khal Drogo rides here with his Dothraki horde and is due to arrive today. Perhaps the Prince expects us to defend his city should they resort to violence as you defeated Khal Ramo a year ago at Norvos.”

“The Dothraki? Here? That smells like a damn trap to me. Khal Ramo was an idiot to fight us outside the open fields. He had a Khalasar of 25 thousand, but the city was in our favor. He should have run when we began to fuck his riders with arrows” Balaq snorted.

“Do not underestimate Drogo” Arthur inputted. “He commands far more than Ramo did. 80,000 if I’m not mistaken. Even with the city, it will be quite a task to fight him here. Luckily the open fields are scarce here in the free cities. He’s united the Khalasar into one and only needs to defeat two other Khals before he becomes the official king of the Dothraki Sea. He’s not an idiot like Ramo was.”

“What say you Rakharo?” Jon asked.

“Khal Drogo good fighter, commander. He no fear anyone. He defeat every Khal. We all think he defeat Ramo soon if Ramo live. But he no live. You kill Ramo. We should still be careful.”

Jon nodded at Rakharo before turning to Lagras.

“And you Lagras? Do you think our elephants can defeat Khal Drogo’s Khalasar?”

Lagras sat silently for a while before nodding his head. The company learned very quickly that Lagras was a man of few words, but he had a damn gift with the elephants. With nonverbal commands, he could make any elephant dance to his tune.

Jon nodded once again before turning to his captains.

“Well, I think we should stay here for the day. We can set off tomorrow-“

The tent flap burst open as a blonde-haired man bounded to Jon’s left with winded breath. He held a scroll in his right hand.

“Nice of you to join us” Jon drawled.

The man panted as he took a deep breath.

“So sorry. Was taking a stroll through the city when a servant came up to me and asked me if I was part of the company. I assume it was my armband, you know how I like wearing it to attract the women. Women love-“

“The point” Jon interrupted.

“Oh, sure. She told me that this was meant for you and made to give it to me before it was snatched away by a friend of hers, a boy. He said this was only supposed to be delivered to you after Khal Drogo had arrived at the magister’s palace. I chased the fucker and asked them to give it to me.”

“Asked them?”

“Yeah. Asked them.”

“Did you…ask them…nicely?” Jon implored.

Silence.

“You should read that Jon.”

Jon sighed.

“I think I should, Asher.”

Asher Forrester. Exiled son of Gregor Forrester, Lord of Ironrath. Second born son. Forbidden love affair with Gwyn Whitehill, daughter of House Whitehill, a sworn and bitter enemy to House Forrester. Attractive, scruffy look with blonde hair and meadow green eyes. He had become Jon’s best friend during the exile. Asher had planned to travel to Yunkai, but soon found himself caught up with Golden Company when they were still under the leadership of Arthur Dayne three years ago. He was only three years older than Jon and…he was a northerner. Jon quickly took to him and the pair had been inseparable ever since. However, the two friends were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Where Jon was quiet and calculating, Asher was loud and rambunctious. One preferred solitude, the other preferred the social company. Northern ties just ran strong it seemed.

Jon broke the seal and read its contents. Arthur and Asher looked at him and grew with worry as confusion set on Jon’s face.

“What?” he said. “this has to be a joke. Asher, you have to be fucking with me.”

“I’m not” Asher cried “the servant said this was meant for you. I chased down the whoreson who stole it and made my way to you. Why would I risk missing this meeting if I wasn’t honest?”

Jon simply shook his head at the letter.

“Let me see it” Arthur said softly. Jon handed him the letter.

_To Jon Snow,_

_I am Illyrio Mopatis, a magister of Pentos, and a humble servant of House Targaryen. I bring news from the rightful King, Viserys Targaryen, that he would like to begin planning his invasion in retaking the iron throne that was stolen from him. He deems an alliance. The loyalty of your army in aid of his plight. He brings the notion of marriage, his sister, Daenerys Targaryen, princess of Dragonstone, wedded to you, Jon Snow, commander of the Golden Company. He urges you to make haste as Khal Drogo rides to Pentos in search of a Khaleesi. A beautiful woman to bear him a son to fulfill a prophecy. The stallion that mounts the world. The princess awaits today to be presented to you in all her glory to convince you that she is a worthy wife to the great captain that defeated a Khal at the gates of Norvos._

_, a future friend. Illyrio Mopatis._

Arthur’s eyes widened as finished reading the letter. He passed it to Balaq and as it made its way around the table, the gears began to turn in Arthur’s head.

Firstly, he didn’t like the way Viserys referred to himself as the rightful king but couldn’t find it in himself to blame him. As far as Viserys was aware, he was the last male Targaryen alive. Arthur also felt a sort of shame at not finding the prince and princess. Arthur was still sworn to protect them as well, but they always seemed one step ahead of him. He soon gave up and turned his attention to keeping Jaehaerys safe. However, now that he knew that they were both in the city, Arthur saw the opportunity in saving both of them. This could also solve the future problem of contention to Jaehaerys’ claim to the throne. If he married Daenerys, none could challenge his legitimacy. Suddenly, being tricked by the prince of Pentos was not such a bad situation. It was a rather fortuitous day.

As the last person read the letter, Lysono cleared his throat.

“What will you do?”

Jon turned to him.

“Deny it of course” Marlon interjected.

“I hear she is beauty. If she captivates Khal Drogo, then she be good wife to commander” Rakharo put his opinion in.

Arthur silently agreed with the Dothraki. If enough of the commanders could convince Jon to accept the proposal, then they could leave Pentos with all Targaryens.

“I think we should at least see” Balaq said.

“It could be a trap” Lysono said.

“I don’t know. Aerys burned Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon. Maybe we shouldn’t have our commander marry his daughter.”

Arthur scoffed at the young northerner in front of him.

“You cannot seriously blame a child for the sins of her father.”

Asher merely put his hands up in defense.

“I think we should go” they all turned to Nithral “only to fuck with this Khal Drogo and his men.”

They all rolled their eyes. His opinion didn’t count they decided.

“The decision falls to you commander” Marlon said, “whatever you choose, I will back you.”

Everyone at the table nodded. Jon was young but had proven himself time after time and had rewarded his men’s loyalty with treasures beyond measure.

“I don’t think I’ll go” Jon said.

Arthur sucked in a breath.

“I don’t like being forced into situations last minute. And this Viserys. He wants our men to fight his damn war?”

They all smiled. It was always “us” to Jon. Never “me”. However, the smile quickly died from Arthur’s face as he made to argue with his King. Arthur opened his mouth but was promptly cut off by the most surprising person possible at the table.

“You must” a scratchy voice said.

They all turned with wide eyes to the lone man seated next to Nithral. Every man looked at him with their mouths agape.

“Lagras…” Jon trailed in shock.

“What the fuck? This guy talks” Asher hissed.

Jon shook his head.

“Speak Lagras. Why must I play along with this charade?”

“The prophecy” Lagras breathed. “The prophecy states that one day a dragon will take us home to Westeros. She is a dragon. If you marry her, we can go home.”

Arthur had never wanted kiss a man before in his life, but if asked he would gladly lock his lips with Lagras in that very moment.

“Aye” Marlon agreed “’And one day a dragon will beat its wings upon the golden sons of Essos. And then, it will fly them home to the stolen lands of the west.’”

Every man, including Asher, had nodded their heads at the prophecy. Everyone tired of fighting for gold. Every man in this room, no matter how extravagantly dressed, longed for a place that they could call home.

Jon grit his teeth.

“I cannot promise you a marriage, my friends. But for all of you, I will at least ride to this Magister’s house and I will set my gaze upon this dragon princess myself.”

The men nodded their heads. A choice. Their commander deserved no less. He didn’t even need to ride to see her at all. Jon could simply order his men to march that very moment and every single soldier along with their mammoths would obey.

“Still” Jon said, “I find it strange that this letter is supposed to bid me to ride there in haste, yet it was deemed to be withheld until the Khal viewed the princess for himself.”

Asher nodded.

Everyone looked confused as they tried to decipher that information.

“Unless” they all turned to Lysono “they purposely meant to withhold the information.”

“What do you mean” Jon questioned. Arthur felt dread filling his stomach.

“This letter was written by the magister. He himself sent his servant to deliver the letter but told one of them to not deliver it until Drogo had arrived. He did not foresee that a fellow company man, much less the commander’s friend, would be paroling the streets and run into said servants. No doubt one of them is slow of mind and did not think when they approached Asher. Viserys Targaryen seems set on wedding his sister to you, commander and, from what I’ve heard, he’s rather prejudice against foreigners.”

Arthur frowned. He was liking prince Viserys less.

“My thoughts?” Lysono continued “Mopatis is conspiring to marry the princess to Drogo and does not wish for you to be there.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Then we must ride in haste” he blurted out as he stood from his chair.

His fellow captains nodded their heads as Jon simply stared at him with narrow eyes. If Jon had any questions, he did not get to voice them as Asher quickly pulled him from his chair.

“Hey” Jon exclaimed to his best friend.

“Come on” Asher said, “Khal Drogo is probably already there, we need to ride with the wind.”

“He’s right. We can’t waste any more time.”

Jon turned to Arthur with piercing grey eyes but turned to Balaq at the last moment.

“Balaq, I want you to stay here and mobilize the army. I don’t know how offended Drogo will be if he wasted the journey only to think I’m stealing his intended bride.”

Balaq simply nodded and ran outside.

“The rest of you. Ride with me. Bring your fastest horse and your strongest weapon. We ride with the wind behind us” Jon commanded.

Nithral roared in happiness as he scurried to his horse with his war axe.

Jon made his way outside as he strapped his bastard steel sword to his hip. He made his way up towards the grasslands that led to the city and was met by a squire that had readied his horse. It was a beautiful animal. Gorgeous. A black Sand Steed from Dorne. The saddle a charcoal black with accented gray made of pure leather from the skin of a cow.

Jon looked behind him, all his captains on their respective horses. Nithral and Lagras holding the banner for the company.

“Rakharo” Jon called.

The young Dothraki rode from the back and next to him.

“Yes commander?”

“I need you to ride alongside Asher, Arthur and me. I can understand Dothraki but can’t speak it for shit. I need you to translate for me. Can you do this for me?”

Rakharo puffed out his chest.

“ _Yes commander_ ” He replied.

Jon grinned at him.

“Good man”

**One Hour Earlier**

Illyrio’s Manse

Daenerys. She was a Targaryen princess. A shy and meek girl of five and ten. She currently overlooked the city of Pentos from the balcony of Illyrio Mopatis’ manse as she waited for the servants to fill up the bath with water.

Daenerys looked on with sad violet eyes as she thought about everything her brother had told her. She was to be presented today for a pending marriage. She had never felt so betrayed. Daenerys was afraid of her brother, but he had promised her that she would be his queen. That they’d rule together when they reclaimed their home. Daenerys dreamed of it, hoping that it would bring back her old Viserys. The one that would wipe away her tears and sing her to sleep. But ever since he had sold their mother’s crown, he had become bitter and abusive. All he ever talked about was the throne. Maybe, just maybe, he could be the Viserys she loved again. But all those thoughts were dead. He had told her the day past that Khal Drogo rode with his Khalasar to view her for himself before he made the decision to wed her or not. To make matters worse, Viserys had told her that another suitor rode to the manse as well.

For a brief moment, she had prayed that he was secretly referring to himself. However, he quickly crushed her hopes when he told her about the Golden Company that was camped outside the city. Fear overtook her body as she didn’t need to wait for the name to come from Viserys’ lips to know who rode for her. Jon Snow. The northern bastard commander that had defeated Khal Ramo at the gates of Norvos.

This was her future. A savage horse lord that enslaved people and took their women out in the open and under the stars or a northern barbarian bastard that could match a Khal in ferocity. For the first time in many moons, Daenerys cried herself to sleep.

“Daenerys” a familiar voice called behind her.

Viserys. Her brother. The man that was intending to sell her today.

Daenerys made her way into the bathhouse as her brother caught sight of her.

“Ah, there you are” he said in delight. He held a thin silver dress in his hands. The material sheened in the light. “Look what I have.”

She already had.

“Touch it” he said with delight. It reminded her so much of the past. However, the occasion as to why he had it quickly dampened her reminiscing. She reached a hand out to the material “It’s soft isn’t it?”

She could only nod. Viserys handed the dress to one of the servants before circling behind her and grasping at the straps of her dress to remove it from her body. Soon, her entire nude form was posed for him as he circled back in front of her.

He put a thumb to his lips as he observed her form with thought. With the hand that was at his mouth, he reached for her left breast as he gave it a light squeeze. He nodded his approval.

“I need you to be perfect for me today” he told her. “Do you think you can do that?”

He simply stared at her with a paler hue of purple, a lilac color, and turned heel to walk away.

Daenerys simply found herself walking in front of the steps that lead into the boiling water in the bath. As she climbed the steps, Daenerys could not find it in herself to cry at the fate that awaited her. A life of rape. A life of servitude to one of two men. Both hardened warriors. One a horse lord twice her age. Or a bastard commander that had barbarian northern blood, the same blood that helped overthrow her family.

“My lady, it’s too hot” a servant girl exclaimed.

The water seemed too cold for her.

**One Hour Later**

They stood outside the manse. Illyrio Mopatis with his forked beard stood by the steps that lead into his home while Daenerys waited at the entrance with her brother.

She stood in silence until they heard the screaming coming from down the street to their left. Three men rode to the entrance as Illyrio laughed jovially as he greeted them in Dothraki.

She looked up to her brother and made out disappointment on his face. As she looked back at the three men, one stood out in particular. A giant man atop a brown horse, his long black hair braided as it reached his tights. A beard that was also braided into a goatee reached his chest. As she observed him even more, she noticed bells tied into the braid of his hair.

Viserys leaned into her ear but she never tore her eyes away as the man atop the brown horse had caught her gaze. He simply scrutinized her with cold lifeless eyes as his ever present scowl never softened.

“The man on the brown horse is Khal Drogo. He currently leads the largest Khalasar. Do you see that long braid? When a Khal is defeated in combat, he must cut his hair in shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated” he whispered. “There may not be a finer killer around on this continent…of course he’s a savage, but he’s good at what he does. And…you will be his queen.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as Illyrio Mopatis finished his speech in the common tongue.

“And may I present to you, Princess Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen.”

He gestured his arm towards her, and she made her way slowly down the steps and to the Khal.

_Neigh_

Daenerys stopped in her steps as everyone turned their attention to the left side once again. This time, a group of eight riders dashed to the entrance where Illyrio Mopatis currently stood.

The magister looked with an ashen face and she heard a gasp behind her. Daenerys turned to her brother to find a look of glee upon his face. When she turned her attention to the eight riders, she understood why. Two men at the back, each held a banner. Five golden skulls impaled by a spear. _The Golden Company_

Daenerys sucked in a breath as she surveyed the man that might be Jon Snow. She had heard many stories of him, all from the young women around her. Fools, she had thought of them. Did they not know how cruel and vindictive that bastards were? How barbaric the northerners had been born? She looked to each of the eight riders. The closest to a barbarian she could make out to be were the two men riding at the back. One huge and burly with a large war axe. The other with scars upon scars on his face and arms. However, they both held the banners for the Golden Company. They were captains. Not the commander.

She turned her attention to the two riders in front of them, one in full armor and the other in a cloak. The armored one looked barbaric with his greatsword, but he rode behind the group. Another captain. Daenerys looked at the two men ahead of them. Both handsome. Both looked deadly. On the left, away from her, she could make out blonde hair, but she could not see his eyes. They were colored, the way they reflected in the sun told her so. The man to the right, close to her was older than the other by at least twenty years. He had short black hair and violet eyes, eyes just like hers. He wielded a beautiful sword. He wore shiny silver armor that had scratches and dents in it. Everything about him screamed warrior. However, like the rest, they did not ride at the front. She moved her gaze to the last two riders. She could already eliminate one. A tall but young, brown skinned man. He spoke to the Dothraki riders in front of him in fluency that it was only logical to conclude him to be Dothraki as well.

_That leaves one._

Even as the young Dothraki conversed with the other two riders that accompanied their Khal, he positioned his steed to be behind the man next to him. He was the commander, there was no question about it. He did not meet her gaze, rather staring down the Khal in front of him. His black hair bound tightly behind his head. He wore a sort of leather gambeson and had a blade attached to his hip. His mount was hell itself, she concluded. Black as night, its coat shining like silk in the sun. Its neck was slim and long. His horse, unlike his captains, was not armored. He paraded his steed’s beauty.

As she took in his features once again, Daenerys saw light stubble growing on his cheeks from the side view. His nose was nicely pointed, and his lips looked plump from her angle. If only he turned his head, she could make him out fully.

As if her thoughts had been projected aloud, the commander turned his gaze to her and she stifled a fearful gasp.

He was beautiful. His skin was naturally pale, she could tell, even with the tan it held. His features were evenly symmetrical, and his left eye was adorned with a long scar that went from his mid cheek above his eyebrow. But it was his eyes. They were cold but not lifeless. They observed her.

He turned away from her as he focused on the three riders in front of him. One of Drogo’s men had spat upon the ground. The Khal simply looked at Jon Snow with a scowl as turned his horse around and rode off, his two companions following him.

“Ah, yes” Illyrio said weakly.

The man with the violet eyes brought his steed a few steps forward as he addressed the magister.

“You stand before the commander of the Golden Company. He who defeated Khal Ramo at the gates of Norvos. The Undefeated White Flame of Essos. Jon Snow.”

 Illyrio Mopatis coughed as he gestured his hand to her once again.

“Great undefeated White Flame of Essos, I present to you Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen” he choked out.

Daenerys walked down the steps once again, but undisturbed this time.

She stopped a few feet from his horse as she looked into his eyes. She could feel the fear building in her chest once again. His eyes were as black as his steed, cold and calculating. He did not rake his eyes over her body like many men had done, rather only stared into her eyes. He looked forward to the direction where Khal Drogo rode off to and clicked his tongue.

And just like the Khal had done earlier, he rode off with his captains in tow.

“Wait” Viserys cried out. Daenerys did not look behind her, only to the distance where Jon Snow had ridden off to. “He didn’t say anything. Did he not like her?”

“For some reason your grace” Illyrio said with a pale face “if he didn’t like her…I think we’d know.”

“So, who will wed her?”

“The decorations are already set; the wedding shall take place tomorrow in the stony shore by the palace. Whomever shows up, we can assume to be the groom.”

**Later that day**

Jon’s tent

“I won’t marry her” Jon said in frustration.

“You saw her Jon” Arthur retorted. “You saw how frightened she was.”

“Aye” Jon roared “I saw how frightened she was. How frightened she felt when she laid eyes upon me.”

“And how do you think she felt when she laid eyes upon Khal Drogo?! Do you think she felt joy when she laid eyes upon him? She was fearful the entire time. I have no idea what she’s gone through but a barbarian like Khal Drogo won’t be best for her. You can save her Jon. You have to.”

“And why do I? Have you ever once wondered if I’m tired of this” Jon yelled. “I’m tired of being the one to save people. Everywhere I go I need to save people. Every battle I fight, people need my help. I can’t do this forever.”

Arthur simply looked at him with calculating eyes, violet not dropping from slate grey.

“Do I need to help her because she needs saving or because she’s a Targaryen? I know you’re sworn to her family. I’m not an idiot, I know you want to save her. So, why does it have to be me?”

Silence.

“Why?”

More silence.

“Tell me” Jon growled.

A woman rushed into the tent.

“Jon?! What’s wrong?”

Sevanna had rushed in with a frantic look upon her face. No doubt worried at the yelling match between both men.

Arthur stepped forward.

“It needs to be you, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Jon clenched his jaw.

“Can you live with yourself, walking away and knowing that you could’ve saved her from her fate but decided to leave her to it? Can you? Because if you can, then you’re not the man I raised. You’re not even a man.”

Arthur turned on his heel and walked away.

“Arthur!” Sevanna screeched. But he didn’t stop. He simply kept walking.

Sevanna looked at Jon and made to say something but he shook his head in response. She took the hint and left the tent.

Jon walked to his bed and let himself fall into its cushion.

Could he live with himself if he walked away? He already knew the answer.

**Next Day**

The Wedding

Music surrounded the area. Men laughed rambunctiously as women danced to entertain them. The wedding had taken place an hour before the sun was due to set. The Golden Company would party well after darkness came and into the morning when the sun showed once again.

Daenerys sat atop a stone covered in cloth padded by leather next to her newly wedded husband. She surveyed the happenings around her. The knights had brought their entire band of horses and men and elephants. They danced and mock fought one another. They sang and drank and pissed themselves unconscious. Everyone around them seemed to have a good time, but Daenerys could only look on in fear as she saw men slugging one another with closed fists.

Viserys laughed at the scene.

Daenerys slyly turned her head towards her husband, a pensive look upon his face is what she saw. He never once spoke a word to her as he preferred to look at his men in disappointment. To his right sat his entire guard of captains, though one she had not seen before sat with them as well. A tall and dark man with white hair, conversed with the warrior who carried a war axe.

The young Dothraki balanced a dagger on his fingertips and cursed as it slid off his finger and left a gash. His curses brought amusement to the scarred man and the man in cloak. The northern looking man in hard plate simply drank his ale as he watched the ongoing fights happening in the crowd of knights and squires.

There were two men that stood out more prominently than the other captains. The blonde-haired man and the older black haired man with the same colored eyes as her. They sat closest to their commander and laughed with one another as they shared tales of past battles. As his captains, they were reserved the privilege of not having to gift the newlyweds anything. It was a testament to their upstanding loyalty and faith.

Daenerys did notice, however, that she received the majority of the gifts. She had expected everyone to pay homage to the White Flame of Essos, but everyone deemed instead to gift silks and oils and perfumes to her. Her brother had even tried to gift her a pleasure maiden from Lys but was promptly denied by her husband. She suspected, and feared, that he wanted to break her in himself.

Finally, the festivity seemed to pace ahead when a beautiful brown-haired woman with striking green eyes and plump lips made her way to the newlyweds. For the first time, she saw her husband move from his sitting position. As she turned to face him, Daenerys fought a gasp as she saw a smile upon his face. It made him look youthful and carefree. It perfected his beautiful image. No longer were his eyes cold and calculating. They were full of warmth. She turned to the woman, who was now in front of her, and wondered who she could be to garner such a reaction.

“Hello. My name is Sevanna” the woman said.

Daenerys said hello in return.

“Has he told you about me?” she pointed her head to Daenerys’ husband.

Daenerys simply shook her head in response. The woman’s face had darkened, and Daenerys was afraid she would be on the receiving end of the woman’s anger, but Sevanna had simply rounded on her husband instead.

“Did I teach you no manners?” she hissed. “Six and Ten years I have spent with you and not once have you brought me up to your wife? No! Do not give me any excuse. It simply takes a minute to let her know who I am. You’ve been wedded a good while now.”

Her husband turned his head away from them in embarrassment. The blonde-haired man laughing as the black haired man looked at her husband in amusement.

Sevanna turned back to Daenerys with a smile.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just that I’ve raised him for so long now that he’s practically my son. I see myself as his mother, even if he calls me by my name.”

Sevanna stepped closer to her and took Daenerys’ face with her soft and caring hands.

“You have married my son. You are my daughter now. Please, do what he cannot and call me mother” Sevanna said with a kind smile.

Daenerys’ vision blurred as she nodded her response. She couldn’t find her voice to respond.

Sevanna let go of her face as she made her way to the two men seated by her husband.

“I guess that’s my time then?” The blonde-haired man laughed.

“I think it is” the black-haired man responded.

The blonde-haired man simply stood up and made way for Sevanna to sit next to the black-haired man. He walked away from the two with a smile as he sat next to the northerner in plate armor. Both laughing as if they were continuing a long lost conversation.

She sat in silence as she played with her silver dress in her hands. Suddenly, she was startled by a large chest being laid in front of her.

“My princess” Illyrio Mopatis said “may I present my gift to you.”

The servants carrying the chest opened it. She felt a pull to the contents that lay within. Three large oval stones in varying colors. Black with red veins, an emerald, and finally a pitch colored egg with golden spots.

“Dragon eggs, Princess Daenerys.”

She looked at the magister in shock. One of the servants reached for an egg, the black and red one, and handed it to her.

“The time has turned them to stone, though they are still beautiful to look at.”

Daenerys could only marvel as she held the egg in her hands. It felt…alive. She must be going mad. She quickly placed the egg back in the chest and thanked the magister for his gift. Illyrio nodded and the servants took the chest away.

“The sun is starting to set” she heard from her right. It was the blonde-haired man that was seated next them before.

“An apt observation, Asher” the plated man teased.

So, Asher was his name.

“Shut your damn mouth Marlon” he hissed.

Marlon was the plated northerner.

Marlon simply laughed in response.

“He’s right” the black-haired man said. “It’s time for you two to ride off.”

“You don’t need to rush them Arthur” Sevanna scolded him.

Arthur was the black-haired man. The one with the same colored eyes as her.

“No” her husband interrupted, “Arthur’s right.”

He stood up and Daenerys felt her blood run cold. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest as she felt her entire body go numb. He turned to her and offered a calloused hand. She took it with her small and soft one.

“It’s time for me to give you your gift, my wife.”

She was surprised. She hadn’t taken him to be a gifting man. Especially when he had received so little.

He led her down the stony steps and to the grassy plain that were beside the palace. There, she could see his horse, the same gorgeous black steed she had seen the day past.

However, she gasped when a mare was led to them. Her husband took the reins from the squire and led it the rest of the way to Daenerys. Its coat was as white as snow. Its neck was the same long and slender as his black stallion, but the hair on the horse glowed silver in the sun.  The saddle was a gorgeous brown leather with golden accents.

“She’s a Dornish Sand Steed.” He said. She could see him looking at her from the corner of her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

“Though, I believe she should technically be called a Dornish Sand Mare” he added jokingly.

Asher snorted.

When she didn’t respond, he cleared his throat.

“The saddle was one I received as a prize from a contract in Volantis. If it’s not to your liking, I can make you a new one. I’ve always had an interest in taking care of my horse.”

He closed his mouth before he tripped over himself.

Arthur Dayne raised an eyebrow as Sevanna looked at him lovingly, though the two newlyweds could not see them.

Her husband held out a hand to her.

“Let me help you up” he said softly.

She accepted his assistance but still avoided his gaze.

When he mounted his horse, he gave a caress to the its mane and Daenerys found herself doing the same for her mare.

“Follow me” he said over his shoulder. “Just keep yourself calm and guide her slowly. I’ll stay close by so she can follow my steed.”

She wanted to nod but felt it stupid as he would not be able to see. He clicked his tongue and his steed moved forward.

They rode away from the stony shore. She could hear the hoots and whistles from his knights and company men. Even the mammoths blew their trunks, as if to congratulate the man on his way to claim his prize.

Her husband had helped her atop her mare and had tried to meet her eyes, but she had avoided him out of fear of what was to come. Now, ironically, it was his eyes she could not see. He rode ahead of her as she followed. They were two people of opposite ends. Her on a mare as white as snow, and he on a steed as black as night. Though the horses were one in the same. The same breed.

They rode until they reached the beachside where his tent was set up. As captain, he was reserved the most beautiful view of the sea while his camp surrounded him in protection.

He helped her once again, this time to dismount and she made her way to the shore with light steps as she viewed the sunset while he hitched both horses to a post.

She viewed the beautiful distance, the red sun lighting the sea as it disappeared below the horizon. It wasn’t until she heard the light steps in the sand making its way towards her that tears began to blur her vision.

 

The hairs on her nape stood up as she tensed herself, deftly waiting for his touch upon her body. When his rough hands touched her shoulders, she let the tears fall freely. She stifled each sob as he circled her, closing her eyes and willing everything to be over.

When his hand reached for hers to grasp it tightly, she kept her eyes shut even as he led her towards his tent.

Once inside, he led her towards the makeshift bed and laid her down. The tears came in higher force and he used his thumb to wipe them away. She held her arms to her breasts, using them as an added protection along with her wedding dress. She knew it meant nothing; he could easily rip them away.

“There’s no point in having second thoughts right now. If you didn’t want to marry me, then I would have taken you over to the horse lord.”

She whimpered as she shook her head fervently. Daenerys tensed when she felt his hands wrap around her wrists to pull them apart. She fought him slightly as her hands were wrenched from their protective position.

He sighed, causing her to open her eyes. Her tear glistened eyes met his own. She was surprised to see his eyes full of hesitation as he flitted his eyes to the side.

“Listen, I didn’t actually want to marry you either. I was pressured into this marriage by some of my men. So, why don’t we just get this over with and move on? I can bed you and leave you alone for the rest of our marriage, but we need to consummate this tonight.”

He clenched his fist nervously as he tentatively met her eyes. Her sobs had died down as she eyed him when he moved his hands up to the straps of her dress. Jon undid the bound knots and slid the material down her chest, exposing her perky breasts to him. She gasped when he encircled the skin around her areola with light touches. When his thumb moved up to the pebbled peak, she awaited the sharp pain of a tug but instead bit back a gasp when he pressed on her nipple lightly.

Jon squeezed on her breast and a moan escaped her lips; and just as soon as he touched her, he drew his hand away.

It was strange, but she found that she almost felt herself wanting his touch. He stood up and moved his hands to the bindings of his leather jerkin. Jon fidgeted with the knots a bit before finally pulling his top wear over his head.

A certain heat flooded her stomach as his tanned torso was on display for her eyes to feast. Her husband then undid the strings of his breeches, and pulled his pants, along with his smallclothes, down and off his legs.

Whatever warmth that bubbled near her stomach immediately dissipated at the sight of the bobbing length in front of her.

_Was that meant to go inside her? It couldn’t be. There was no way that it would fit inside her._

She shut her thighs together, afraid at the looming penetration that would await her, and found that she was slick between her legs. Her slit stuck closely to her smallclothes and her cheeks burned at the possibility that he would most likely see the damp spot that darkened the fabric.

However, Jon merely pushed her onto her back and loomed over her, his arms by her side as one of his knees was positioned between her legs on the makeshift bed of the tent.

Her chest moved up and down with each light breath as she looked up at him with her violet hues. The silence became long and nearly awkward. The sounds of the outside waves were muffled to them slightly and Daenerys thought that neither would make a move. Until he did.

Jon dipped his head slowly, and their eyes closed slightly as their lips made contact. It was clumsy and wet, but neither knew any better. Both husband and wife did not know if they were kissing each other properly, only knowing that they enjoyed the taste of each other as they kissed. Jon’s body dropped slightly until his chest was directly making contact with hers, his cock rubbing against the fabric of the last piece of fabric on her body.

They broke the kiss between them as they gasped for air, their lips swollen as Jon pressed his forehead against hers. Daenerys angled her lips up to him to offer her mouth to him, but Jon pulled away as he nestled between her legs. She pushed herself onto her elbows and waited with trepidation as he moved his fingers to the hemline of her smallclothes to pull down. A slick stream of juices stuck her slit to the fabric, and it created a web of fluid as slid the cotton down her legs.

She waited for the mocking gesture, at such a lewd and foreign thing but her husband did not comment. Instead, he tossed the soaked cotton aside and grabbed his cock within his grip, giving a few pumps as his skin glided forward and back. Her breath quickened when he positioned the glistening head at her entrance, waiting for the intrusion. Jon leaned forward and pushing past the resistance, grunting as her walls encapsulated his length.

Tears formed at the corner of her eyes as she fisted the sheets underneath her. He paused when he noticed her biting her lip, stilling when he had pushed himself a quarter of the way inside her. He looked at her with worry in his eyes until she relaxed and peered up at him, nodding for him to continue. He began to push more of his length inside her, until half of him was sheathed inside her.

Daenerys bit her bottom lip as he pulled himself out before thrusting himself back in. Each thrust grew him bolder to fit more of his length until he buried to his hilt inside her silken walls. Groans and grunts escaped his mouth as her quick breathing turned into small whimpers, and then to moans.

Her heat pulsed and bubbled in her stomach once more as his thrusts became erratic. She didn’t realize when she wrapped her arms around his back, only that she began to dig her nails into the ridged flesh. Whoever reached their peak first was unknown; perhaps it was him or her, or perhaps they had reached euphoria together. But she cried out as her walls clenched around him and he gave a muffled roar as his cock twitched and began to spurt seed inside her womb.

He collapsed onto her, their sweat slickened bodies contacting one another briefly before he rolled off and beside her.

Daenerys rolled onto her side as she clutched the sheets to her, but Jon lifted her with minimal effort in order to pull the sheets covers under her body and over them.

She remained on her side as nestled her head atop the pillows of their bed. She froze when he wrapped his arm around her, the skin making contact with the peaks of her breasts as he pulled her to him. Her back was flush against his abdomen as he buried his head into the crown of her hair.

“Just for tonight” he murmured, drifting off into sleep.

Daenerys wrapped an arm around his and drifted off only a few moments later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will rewrite CH 2 and following chapters to fit the flow of the new story.


	2. Old Books and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys meets with the men that her husband calls his captains, while also gaining traction to a small bit of confidence.
> 
> Jon travels into the city on the behest of his friend on the basis of "wooing" his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if you reread chapter 1, but I edited Daenerys, Viserys and Arthur's eyes back to their book original ones.
> 
> I never intended for this chapter to be up their with the prologue in length, but it can't be helped. The ideas just kept coming.
> 
> I'll edit the grammar and spelling either today or tomorrow. Just too excited to get this out.
> 
> 2/5/2019: Edited grammar and spelling.

**299 AC**

Pentos

Daenerys woke to the shouts of mobilization outside the tent. A flicker of fear coursed through her body as she remembered fleeing for her life one time when Viserys shook her awake. For fourteen years they had spent fleeing assassins, but it had never been that close. Usually they always moved in advance, but that time had truly been when she realized how on the fringe she was to dying.

That was also when they were rescued by men sent by Illyrio Mopatis. When they arrived at his manse, he had claimed that he had been tracking them down for years in hopes of returning the Targaryen name back to power in Westeros. Viserys had puffed his chest every time the nice magister had told him of the smallfolk that silently called for their rightful king and the women that wove the dragon banner in secret.

She, on the other hand, was simply grateful that Illyrio had given them a home for a year. Daenerys had never felt such comfort before. A large comfortable bed, silken dresses and a warm bath every day. She thought it would never end. Until it did. As her eyes finally took in the cloth of the tent walls, she remembered the life she was damned to now. Dany whipped her head to her right, wholeheartedly dreading the view of a dark haired man sleeping next to her.

It was empty.

The cloth of the makeshift bed was disheveled, indicating the figure that slept there through the night. However, when Daenerys reached a hand to feel the fabric, it was cold. He had awoken quite some time before her and had already left.

She looked around the room.

A chest by the foot of the bed. An armor and sword rack in the right corner of the tent. A small washbasin in the opposite corner.

She hadn’t seen any of it due to keeping her eyes tightly shut as he led her to his bed. _Their_ bed.

She supposed what was his was now hers. And what was hers was now his. She was his and he was hers.

So why? Why hadn’t he taken her the night before?

Viserys had told her of what happened on the wedding night between a man and a woman. It was always in preparation for what was to come between the two of them until he had decided to marry her off to the commander of the Golden Company.

They had chosen the silkiest and sultriest dress for her. The dragon pins and the silver grey to accentuate her hair. Two individual clasps that attached to her arms as if silver wings flowed behind her. It was all a grand trophy for her husband to unwrap. And yet…she was still wearing the same dress and accessories that she had the past day.

Why?

Was she not beautiful? Had her brother lied? Had all the ladies she spent her time around lied?

Daenerys curled inwardly as she wrapped her arms around herself. She must have been ugly. She knew that past night was too good to be true. Her husband didn’t refrain himself from her because he was a chivalrous man. He was still a northern barbarian and a bastard. She was just ugly.

“Oh!”

Daenerys’ head shot up. It was Sevanna. She felt herself brighten, if only just a bit.

“It’s late” Sevanna said.

She looked down at Daenerys and she smiled.

“That boy” she said to herself.

Sevanna kept the smile on her face as she approached Daenerys.

“I wondered where you were. I asked the ladies in the camp if you had already broken your fast, but they informed me that you were still sleeping. It must have been a comfortable sleep, it’s almost noon.”

Daenerys looked down.

“Sorry” she began “I didn’t know it was so late.”

Sevanna frowned.

“There’s no need to apologize Princess Daenerys, if you were sleeping so soundly. Though, when we’re on the road, I’ll have to wake you up.” Sevanna gave another smile in hopes that Daenerys would return it. She did. “You can sleep as long as you wish when we’re in one of the cities or if Jon decides to stop the camp for a few days. He’s done it before, princess.”

“Am I?” Daenerys frowned.

“What?”

Daenerys looked into Sevanna’s green eyes.

“A princess? I’m married to a man that calls himself commander. Have I really been a princess? Even when I was unwed, I had no real power. I have no power here either, the men will listen to my husband. Not to me.”

Sevanna sighed as she shook her head and took a seat next to the princess.

“Listen to me Daenerys. No matter whom you married, you will always be a princess. True, if you had married the Khal, you would have been Khaleesi. A Queen amongst the Dothraki, but you’re right. You would not command his men, especially not his bloodriders. You would have been the highest among the women and the children and the elderly, but nothing more.”

Daenerys nodded as she looked down. She had already resigned herself long ago that it was the way of the world.

“However,” Daenerys looked up “when you married Jon. My son. Their commander. You became their commander as well.”

Daenerys looked skeptical. Sevanna saw the look upon her good daughter’s face and simply smiled.

“Come” she said, taking Daenerys’ hands within her own, “I’ll have the ladies prepare a bath for you. How warm do you like it?”

“Scalding” Daenerys replied honestly.

Sevanna looked at her with curiosity.

“I’ve always tolerated hotter temperatures” Daenerys said.

Sevanna nodded and made to leave until she stopped and turned to her good daughter once more.

“The dragon eggs you received yesterday. We have them in the adjoining tent since we didn’t know where to put them.”

“I’ll have them” Daenerys blurted out without thinking. “I mean…if that’s alright with my husband. Then I’ll have them here in the tent.”

Sevanna frowned but nodded without a word.

**2 Hours Earlier**

Jon opened his grey eyes to the sight of a beautiful silver haired princess in his arms. The crown of her head was pressed into his nose so could take in her scent. She smelled of lavender and roses.

His eyes trailed downward to the neckline of her dress.

Jon’s breath hitched as he saw her chest rise up and down against him. He slightly pulled away from her, the feeling of her breasts against his chest suddenly too much and too hot for the Pentos air.

It was as if the Gods were out to test him. Daenerys subconsciously stretched her arms as she laid flat on the cloth of their bed, her chest now upward and perky against the air. He could make out her nipples through the thin grey fabric.

Without realizing it, Jon’s hand slowly made its way to squeeze her right breast, the one closest to him as he slightly hovered over it.

_Do it._

It was a trance. He knew he shouldn’t…but he could. Couldn’t he?

_She’s your wife now. Do it._

_She’s afraid of you. You can’t._

_Do it._

_Don’t_

_She belongs to you._

_She belongs to you._

_She’s yours._

_She belongs to you._

She belonged to him. His hand moved closer. He could almost feel the heat from her body. Just a little bit more-

“Hey, you stupid fucker. How many times do I have to tell you? Keep your sword close and your shield closer.”

It was Asher.

Jon’s pulled his hands away from his wife’s body as if she were molten. She stirred, no doubt being woken just a little from the noise outside their tent. He was fearful that she’d catch him in the shameful act he was tempted to commit, but she only moved her head from one side to the other before her low and delightful snores filled the air around them.

That was strange. How could snores be delightful?

Jon quickly stood up from the bed and went to the washbasin in the corner. He splashed his face a bit with water, then strapping the sword he left in the tent before the wedding. Risky? Perhaps. But it was more a show of faith towards the magister. Though, thinking back on it, it was a stupid thing to do with Khal Drogo still lurking about outside the city. His khalasar finally arrived with him and set up camp outside Pentos where the open fields were. Jon hadn’t known that the great Khal would grace the city with his presence but was thankful that he decided to set camp by the shoreline. His riders couldn’t storm them unless they wanted to run straight into the sea. His elephants, Jon assumed, were already positioned as a barrier between the camp and any outside forced. 50 Elephants ready to charge any Dothraki horde.

He smelled himself.

_Not too bad. Only sat in one damn spot waiting for my wedding to end._

Perhaps he smelled of the elements. In that case, he rubbed a bit of fragrant oil onto his neck and walked into to the adjoining tent set up by the one he slept in. He saw the chest that Illyrio Mopatis gifted his wife.

Dragon eggs. What peculiar things.

Jon did believe in them. Arthur had told him as much when telling him tales as a Kingsguard across the sea for Aerys Targaryen. It was always strange to Jon how such an honorable man like Arthur Dayne would abandon his vows to serve and raise him when there was news and proof that there were two living Targaryens in the world. Now the princess was joined up with them. The prince? He didn’t know. The man had requested, no, ordered, an audience with him today and Jon was almost inclined to refuse. However, the terms to the marriage were quite clear. Marry his sister and Jon would fight for him to reclaim his throne.

Damn, how Jon hated that clause. He didn’t even want to fight with the man, much less for him. Damn Arthur for guilt tripping him into this marriage. Would Jon do things differently? Very much so. But, if given the same option with the same exact outcome? Yes, as well.

Jon was no idiot to know what fate the poor girl would suffer at the mercy of Khal Drogo and his khalasar. No doubt raped every night until she bore a child for the man. Perhaps mercilessly if she bore a girl instead of a boy until she produced the latter. Khal Drogo was obsessed with his damn prophecy about some “Stallion” that would mount the world or some horseshite like that. Maybe Jon was being hypocritical, he believed in the prophecy about the dragon that would take the golden company home.

Which is what brought Jon back to his question about Arthur. Why would an honorable man abandon his vows to the Targaryen name when there were two breathing Targaryen children in the world.

Jon had his ideas why. However, he couldn’t be sure until Arthur confirmed it true.

Jon always wondered why the captains had pledged fealty to him on his nameday of four and ten. How all captains fell to one knee and pledged him commander. Everyone including Arthur, though Arthur’s felt more heartfelt and prideful.

Jon suspected that the captains knew the truth of why they followed him when Arthur spoke to them, allowing no one, not even him, entry. Sevanna had raised him, yet never once gave a hint at knowing why the company followed him out of loyalty. It didn’t matter that the captains knew. Well…maybe. Almost every single one had died. Out of the original captains from two years past, only Arthur, Balaq and Lysono remained alive. The rest had joined at a much later date than that fateful day.

Jon cracked his neck as he stepped outside of the tent to the light of day.

“Jon” Asher called from his side.

He turned to his best friend. The blonde haired man making his way towards him with a piercing grin.

“You have a great night?”

Jon simply glowered at him through half lidded eyes.

Asher’s smile faltered.

“Woah, guess not. What’s wrong. Didn’t know where to put it?”

Jon scowled at his friend.

“I know where to put it” he hissed. “I just didn’t want to. Did you see the way she looked at me? She doesn’t want anything to do with me. I couldn’t force myself upon her.”

Asher nodded with crossed arms.

“I see…” he said with a frown. He leaned in towards Jon ear and whispered, “you really didn’t know where to put it, did you?”

Jon retaliated with a right hook that Asher narrowly evaded.

With a laugh, Asher skipped backwards away from his incensed friend.

“Calm, calm.”

Asher had his hands out in front of him.

“Listen mate, I understand you. There’s nothing worse than a weeping woman while you’re working her body.”

Jon rolled his eyes but Asher’s face became serious.

“Remember this mate, you’re my friend, but if a woman tells you no, it’s no. No matter how right and good it feels. No matter how her body responds to your touch, a no is a no.”

Jon nodded in agreement, but the shame at what he almost did earlier a few moments ago began to pit in his stomach. Luckily, Asher had turned away and didn’t see the conflicting emotions upon Jon’s face.

“Still” Asher sighed “I don’t blame her.”

“What?”

Asher turned to him with a smirk.

“ _It’s a Dornish Sand Steed, though I think it should be called a Sand Mare_ ” he teased with a mocking voice.

Jon’s ears flushed red in embarrassment as he recalled what he had told Daenerys when he presented his gift to her.

“I thought really hard on that gift. I thought it was a beautiful gift too. The mare has white hair and it reminded me of her. She’s also a well tempered horse. Rakharo said she’s a gentle but strong one. Plus, I thought I saw a hint of appreciation in my wife’s eyes. Maybe she did like it. Wait, what if she didn’t?” Jon rambled on and on.

Asher looked with a deadpan stare as Jon fumbled over his words. He had enough when it didn’t seem like his friend was stopping.

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down there” Asher said annoyed “you’re starting to stress me out mate.”

Jon looked down at his feet.

“Listen. You need to seduce her.”

Jon looked at him in disgusted skepticism.

“Not to fuck…though…is that really a bad thing? Anyways, not just for a warm bed, but for a partner. I can’t say if you two will every really love each other, it rarely happens though it isn’t out of the question. However,” Asher brought Jon close with an arm over his shoulder “you don’t want your wife to fear or hate you, do you?”

Jon looked at his taller compatriot with poorly hidden sadness before shaking his head no.

“Good” Asher nodded. “Then you woo her. Seduce, woo, same thing. But you do it.”

“How?” Jon asked curiously.

“I don’t know, every girl is different. I guess, start easy. Give her flowers or some shite like that.”

“Flowers?”

“It’s a start” Asher shrugged.

Jon nodded. He really didn’t have any experience when it came to romance and though he was wary at his friend’s experience, Asher did get exiled for a forbidden love after all, it was better than having to ask Arthur how he came to be with Sevanna. Jon was almost fully sure that it was Sevanna that did the pursuing.

“So, which flower do you think I should get her?”

Asher shrugged.

“I don’t rightly know that friend. For every woman has a personal touch and a bloom that really captures who she is. Maybe let’s go to the market in Pentos and look around. I’m sure there are plenty of vendors with ranges of flora for you to choose from.”

Jon thought about it.

“I don’t know. We need to leave as soon as possible to get to Myr. Plus, I don’t want to leave Daenerys here alone.”

Asher rolled his eyes.

“Fuck all that. Arthur can keep the camp in order. The other captains are here and Sevanna can take care of your wife while we’re gone. Let’s get this done mate. The sooner you send a gift from the heart, the sooner that wife of yours stops looking at you as if you’ve come to bring the long night.”

“That mare was a gift from the heart” Jon protested.

“Horseshite. You hadn’t the faintest clue on what to do with that mare. You tried gifting it to that mother of yours, but she prefers her horses more wild. It’s only by chance that your newly wedded bride resembles that tame horse.”

Jon blushed as he dug his foot timidly into the ground.

“Fine” Jon acquiesced, “we can go into the market now.”

Asher nodded with a smile.

“That’s the spirit friend. I guarantee you, by the end of our journey to Myr, that woman of yours will look at you as if you were Aegon the conqueror himself.”

“In fear?”

“Fuck off Jon. I meant like a Targaryen. Targaryens love other Targaryens.”

Jon rolled his eyes but followed his friend as they made their way to their horses and into the city.

**Present**

Inside Daenerys and Jon’s Tent

“You look beautiful” Sevanna gushed.

Daenerys observed herself in the mirror by the bath in the adjoining tent.

Sevanna had chosen a violet colored dress that was thin in the typical Essos fashion. She had been offered wraps for her breasts but Daenerys had always been comfortable letting them hang freely. Her eyes glowed with the similar color and her hair flowed freely down her shoulders and back. A single braid started from the right temple of her head to the back.

Daenerys nodded as she blushed with a frown.

She didn’t want to refute the woman’s statements. She was sure she was ugly. When she had disrobed to step into the hot bath, she had observed herself in the full length mirror while Sevanna was preoccupied with preparing the oils.

Her body was curvy but pale. Her nipples rosy and breasts slightly freckled. They were adequately sized, but nothing compared to the woman currently in the same space as her.

_He probably likes his women with skin kissed by the sun. Dark hair like his and a large bosom._

Daenerys hadn’t seen any servants but she had no doubt that the maids meant to serve her were also large chested. She should feel relieved she supposed, he would probably take other women while ignoring her. Yes, that was a solace.

So why did she still feel horrible? It must be the feeling of inadequacy. Daenerys was sure that no woman enjoyed being set aside for another. Happy marriage or not.

“Come” Sevanna told her “let’s go outside and familiarize yourself with the camp.”

She nodded and followed her good mother outside the tent.

The light momentarily blinded her, and she raised her hand to block out the intruding sun.

Sevanna simply turned to her with a light smile and beckoned for her to follow.

As both women walked through the camp, Daenerys lied to herself that the men turning and slightly bowing their heads in respect was for the woman that had raised their commander. However, it was hard to feed herself with false assumptions when one of the men addressed her as “Princess” and all the men around him inclined their heads.

It must have been a dream. She was nobody. Her brother was meant to be king. She was merely the woman that was meant to be by his side. Or…rather, Jon Snow’s side now. She couldn’t believe it.

She looked to the woman accompanying her and sought her with desperate eyes.

_This is all a dream. I’m still asleep. When I wake up, all these men will ignore me._

But, the end of her slumber never came. It never came, because she was already awake. This was real. This was really real.

“Daenerys” Sevanna nudged her gently.

She turned to the green eyed woman.

“Would you like to meet Jon’s captains?”

_Are they my captains too?_

Sevanna smiled.

“Yes. They are your captains as well.”

Daenerys blinked. She was sure she had kept that thought to herself. She didn’t realize she had blurted it out.

Nonetheless, both women walked through the camps until they reached a company of archers oiling and tightening their bows. Some let loose a volley of arrows in perfect synchrony while a white haired man with soot colored skin barked orders to the men around him in a language she didn’t quite understand.

“That’s Black Balaq, but just call him Balaq. We’re not sure if the referring him by the color of his skin is appropriate. He’s the captain of the archers” Sevanna whispered to her.

_Balaq. Captain of Archers._

As the two women approached the man Sevanna called out his name to garner his attention.

“Sevanna” Balaq greeted. He turned to her. “Princess” he said with a bow of his head.

Sevanna made for conversation but Daenerys’ mouth moved quicker than her brain.

“Hello” she greeted in a shy voice.

The man turned to her with piercing black eyes.

Her face began to burn. Perhaps she had disrespected him. He must have only referred to her as princess out of respect. He was a high ranking member among her husband’s army and she was still a woman. She had no business speaking out of turn.

_Stupid. Why would you speak?_

“Hello” he responded.

Daenerys raised her head to meet his gaze with surprised eyes of her own. When she turned to Sevanna, the woman simply looked at her with sad eyes.

“Balaq is usually ignored” the green eyed woman said with sadness in her tone.

“What? Why? He’s a captain of my husband is he not?”

“Yes, but some people can’t help but to stay within their own prejudices. Even on this continent, with darker skinned people such as myself, Balaq is viewed as that of an animal simply due to his color being shades darker.”

“That’s terrible” Daenerys replied horrified.

“It is alright” Balaq interrupted with a smile.

Daenerys and Sevanna frowned.

“I live with this hate to me all my life. Jon was the first man to see me as friend and for my hard work. To see his wife and mother greet me makes me happy. I care not for the opinions of ignorant men. Only for my friends.” He bowed to both women. “Forgive my lady Sevanna and Princess Daenerys, but I must train the men in synchrony in case Drogo decides to ride with his Khalasar and attack us.”

Both women nodded. When the archer captain gave one last bow, they turned on their heels and left.

**Pentos**

Illyrio’s Manse

“Why are we here at this idiot’s house” Asher questioned.

Jon rolled his eyes from atop his beautiful black horse, Scorpion. Scorpion was a gift from Arthur on his fourteenth nameday, right before he ascended to the commander of The Golden Company. They had been through it all together. Jon’s first battle as commander. When they paraded through the streets of Norvos. Scorpion was even the horse that Jon used when he won the beautiful white mare from a merchant in Qohor. How a Dornish Sand had ended up all the way in Qohor was beyond Jon, but when his horse expert, Rakharo, had deemed the mare a worthy horse and trophy; Jon did not hesitate in racing for her ownership. Jon had even upped the stakes by putting Scorpion on the line but after all the wind the two had chased together, Jon knew they could not be defeated.

It was also valid that Asher spoke truly. He had no idea what to do with the snow white mare. His mother had rejected the horse in favor for her own and Jon could not understand why. The mare was so tame and beautiful. Anyone would be grateful to have such a mount. Jon pondered with the idea of having the mare as his backup, but eventually could not picture himself riding any other mount than Scorpion. Then, he had decided to gift the horse to one of his loyal captains. Perhaps to one of his captains’ sergeants, but Rakharo had swatted that idea aside when he told Jon that such a mount did not belong to anyone else other than the commander. It rivaled his Scorpion in beauty and a rider of such a mount would be seen as his equal. Jon could not afford to have dissention within his camp.

Luckily, the time had come for Jon to know what to do with the white mare. His wedding day may have been forced, but the timing had been so opportune. From the moment he laid eyes upon his wife, he was taken by her beauty. It was only her look of fear that kept him grounded to reality. They didn’t know each other and perhaps never would. But a gift would be a step in the right direction and his wife just so happened to be the perfect recipient for his mare. Which unfortunately…wasn’t his idea. Arthur gave him the idea on the morning when Jon decided to accept Viserys’ proposal.

Even the flower that he would eventually search for in the markets wasn’t his idea. It was Asher’s. Jon almost felt like the lowest of the low, using other men’s ideas to make a step in the right direction for his wife.

But hey, being a leader had its perks. They were here to give him “council” after all.

Sighing inwardly, Jon decided to return his attention to his friend.

“Because, Viserys is here and I might as well get this pointless conversation out of the way.”

Asher sighed.

“I don’t want to do this, but you and Arthur ended up agreeing in the end to go through with this damn marriage. That marriage entailed using our forces for Viserys’ cause” Jon said with a huff of annoyance.

“I know” Asher muttered “you don’t have to remind me.”

“Still, I’m curious as to how he plans to take us to Westeros” Jon continued “, we don’t have any ships and even with 25,000 men and 50 elephants, I don’t see us taking the seven kingdoms that easily.”

Asher looked to him.

“You give them too much credit. I grew up around the northerners, toughest warriors on the entire continent. We can attest to that, their blood runs in ours Jon. But, they would perform piss poor against our war elephants. Each one has a tower that holds 15 archers and the tusks are armored with spikes to serve as an offense as well. We just need one loyal landing point. One area to land in, one area to use as a base of operations and we can slowly start our assault. As we defeat the armies, we force them to swear fealty and our numbers will grow.”

Jon couldn’t help but admire his friend’s assessment. Asher could be a real dumbass at times, but he had sparks of intelligence here and there.

“Still” Asher said “We don’t have ships to take us there, you’re right. AND, we need a steady source of food for our army and the army that grows from there.”

Jon nodded.

“Perfect time to ask this “rightful King” how he plans to transport us then” he responded.

As they hitched their horses outside the manse, Asher engaged in further small conversation that ended up exploding.

“After this, we’re heading straight to the market to find that flower for your wife. You’re not running from this.”

“I’m no coward” Jon glowered.

“No? Then why are you still a virgin after your wedding night?”

Jon’s cheeks burned in embarrassment and fury.

“Because she was crying” Jon hissed. “I didn’t want to take her against her will.”

Asher shrugged.

“Not really against her will, technically. She’s your wife Jon. It’s her duty to lay with you and bear you sons.”

Jon turned to his friend, the anger in him was bubbling.

“How can you say that?” Jon practically yelled. “Weren’t you the one to tell me that a “no” was a “no” under any circumstance?!”

Asher smiled, only further enraging his friend.

“Aye” he responded.

Asher leaned in towards his friend and whispered

“I just like fucking with you”

And he ran off towards the doors with a chuckle.

Jon could only stand in confoundment.

Three years. Three years, Jon Snow had known Asher Forrester. How in the hell did he keep letting him get under his skin?

Jon huffed in annoyance as he walked up the steps to the magister’s manse.

He hoped this conversation didn’t dampen his moods further.

**Camp**

They had met up with the captain of the spearmen, next.

He was a scary one to Daenerys. A burly figure with thick arms and legs. He was taller than the rest of the men she had seen on horseback the other day, and, she guessed him to be taller than Khal Drogo as well.

He was confusing.

“Nithral” Sevanna told her a distance away from the man.

That was his name, which wasn’t the confusing bit. The confusing bit was that he was the captain of the spearmen yet wielded a large war axe.

“Stay close” he hollered to a company in front of him. Daenerys did not know much about soldiers, but the particular company seemed to be nervous holding their shields and spears compared to the other spearmen in the distance.

“Hey! Keep your spear and shield held at the shoulders. I want consistency and determination when you walk onto that battlefield. Fuck’s sake, it seems that they gave me a group of incompetents this time around” he snarled.

“Nithral” Sevanna said with a playful warning tilt to her voice.

Daenerys could see the man wince by the tensing of his shoulders and the way he slowly turned to face them.

“Lady Sevanna…” he started before his face paled at the sight of her.

Daenerys almost looked behind her to in order to see what had frightened the large man. Fear had begun to take her body. Whatever could scare him would more than likely eat her whole.

“Princess Daenerys” Nithral exclaimed with frantic eyes.

She paused in her step.

“Forgive me! I did not know you were behind me. I would not speak so horribly had I known you were there. Forgive my vulgar language, Princess Daenerys.”

The man gave an awkward bow to her as he avoided eye contact. Daenerys turned to Sevanna in confusion, but the woman simply looked at the captain in amusement.

“It’s alright captain” she said softly as she turned back to him.

The man gave sigh of relief.

“I’m glad to hear princess. I’m glad to hear. Last thing I need is for the commander to give me overwatch duties.”

“It would serve you well. Then again, it hasn’t helped a bit in the past now that I think of it” Sevanna said dryly.

Nithral shifted on his feet slightly. The woman obviously intimidated the man.

“Regardless. I’m just giving the princess a tour throughout the camp. Letting her familiarize herself with her men and her captains.”

Daenerys half expected the man to protest and say they followed her husband, but he simply nodded in understanding.

“Of course” Nithral replied.

“After we’re done meeting the captains, perhaps we’ll go see Jon for a bit. Then I can introduce her to her maidens.”

Nithral looked at her in confusion.

“Erm, Lady Sevanna…Jon’s not here.”

Sevanna gave him a questioning look.

“He left early in the morn. With Asher.” Sevanna rolled her eyes and muttered an ‘of course’ under her breath. “They rode into the city by themselves and left Ser Arthur in charge.”

Sevanna took a sharp breath.

“By themselves” she asked slowly.

Nithral gave an audible gulp.

“Y-yes. You know how they are my lady. Jon has never bothered with the protection. A-and he doesn’t need to! Really! He’s a great swordsman, as is Asher!”

It was almost comical how desperate the man was to placate the woman next to Daenerys.

Sevanna narrowed her eyes and was ready to bite at the man in front of her when another voice interrupted.

“They’re in no danger my lady.”

They all turned their attention behind them. It was the cloaked man from her husband’s company when they had met at Illyrio’s manse. Another captain.

“Lysono” Sevanna said.

The man nodded.

“My Lady. Princess” he greeted.

“Hello” she said.

“And just how do you know they are safe?”

Sevanna’s narrowed eyes stay in place as her voice dripped with venom.

“Khal Drogo’s khalasar has just mobilized. They seem to be heading east, back towards the Dothraki sea.”

The green eyed woman’s eyes had widened in surprise.

“That is good news” she whispered.

Lysono simply nodded.

“Yes, and I believe that the reason for Jon heading into the city was because King Viserys requested an audience with him.”

Sevanna frowned.

“What audience does he require with Jon? He’s already pledged the company to his cause. And why did he take Asher and not Arthur?”

At that, Lysono simply looked up at the sky with a questioning look.

“To that…I can’t rightly say. Apologies. I must speak with Arthur and await the commander’s return. My lady. Princess.”

With a bow of his head, the cloaked man walked off back to the camp.

“He’s right” Nithral said “Jon and Asher can take care of themselves.”

Sevanna merely huffed as she walked off.

Daenerys looked back at the captain of the spearman and walked off when he bowed his head in respect.

**Pentos**

“That went better than I expected” Asher said earnestly.

Jon walked alongside him in silent agreement. They were heading down to the dockside of the city where the market was located.

_The Prince’s Market_

What a queer name. It was claimed to have been the greatest market of the known world and Jon was inclined to agree. More than inclined, actually. He had traveled the entire free cities. From Braavos to Volantis. None had boasted the size of the market in Pentos. He was sure they would find what they were looking for.

Still, his mind wasn’t fully on the task ahead but rather on the meeting that had just ended.

“Aye” Jon agreed. “I didn’t actually think my dreams would come true.”

When they had arrived with Viserys, the man went on and on about his rightful claim and how he would take back the throne.

It was all utter horseshite to Jon, but when Viserys claimed he would begin his invasion through Dorne, Jon couldn’t help but be intrigued. Apparently, Doran Martell had secretly proposed a betrothal between Arianne Martell and the banished prince.

Jon and Asher shared a look with one another. That’s exactly what Viserys needed. A safe point to invade Westeros through; and what better location than the only region to resist Aegon and his dragons?

Jon had inquired what they would do for food. Viserys replied with a cruel smirk. They would lay waste to The Reach first and claim its resources. From there, they will have gained two southern regions as a safety block against the remaining forces of Westeros.

Perhaps the mad Targaryen wasn’t so delusional after all.

Then, they would take the Stormlands. The region was so well defended and untaken due to the genius of Stannis Baratheon, but Stannis Baratheon had been stupidly banished to Dragonstone by his idiot King of a brother, Robert Baratheon. The man that started the rebellion.

With the southern regions in their grasp along with their men and resources, it was only a matter of time before they managed to take the rest of the continent. However, it was no surprise that the biggest challenges would be taking the Westerlands and the North.

Tywin Lannister, the man responsible for the fall of House Targaryen, was the richest man in the country along with the largest army and capable generals.

The North was the largest region allied with The Riverlands and The Vale. They remained unconquered by regular forces and only fell when Aegon Targaryen threatened Torrhen Stark with his dragons.

However, the biggest challenge was still getting over to Westeros. The Martell ships would be a tremendous help, but not enough if Jon was to transport all 25,000 men along with his war elephants.

That is what led to the surprisingly delightful developments in their plans. When Jon had asked the silver haired man how they were going to be transported, Viserys had informed Jon that he planned to stay in Pentos before setting off towards Braavos. As Jon travelled down to Myr, he would make for Tyrosh as soon as his contract was completed. There, Dorne would arrive with a handful of ships and Viserys would sail with the remainder of the needed fleet he would acquire with a loan from the iron bank. It seemed that the crown was in a rather large debt and a return to a Targaryen regency was just what was needed.

Jon didn’t know if he could believe that, the iron bank was rather intelligent in their investments; but if Viserys somehow managed to pull it off, Jon could not deny how paramount it would be to the start of his invasion.

Overall, Jon walked out of the manse and to the market in happiness.

“Best not look a horse in the mouth for an apple, then” Asher said.

“What?”

“It’s a saying. I think that’s how it goes. Don’t question the gift. Just be happy we got it.”

Jon simply stared at his friend in bewilderment.

“Do you…do you mean “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”?”

“Hmm?”

“Asher. How did you fuck that saying up? Apple? Where in the seven hells did apple come from?”

Asher scowled.

“Whatever, let’s just get on to this market.”

Jon could only shake his head in disbelief as Asher stormed down the streets.

“Apple” he muttered.

**Camp**

She was tired. Her feet were sore and swollen. Daenerys had never walked so much before in her life. It was pathetic really, seeing as the woman beside her was making strides without breaking a sweat.

They had just finished speaking with Ser Marlon, a knight from House Manderly in the North. He was the captain paymaster that was in charge of the duties his name suggested.

He was hesitant when she approached but had shown her respect like the other captains before. He was tall with sandy blonde hair and a beard to match his bluish green eyes.

Sevanna noticed her discomfort and offered to take a break after they met with the captain of the horses.

They walked to the outskirts of the camp and it was there that she saw the young Dothraki man that had ridden next to her husband the first time they had met.

He seemed to be in deep conversation with a scarred man next to him with dark and grey hair mixed in. She immediately recognized him as the man that rode next to Nithral. Both of them carrying a banner of The Golden Company.

“Oh” Sevanna said in delight “two captains are here already.”

As they approached closer and closer, both men stood to attention

“Lady Sevanna” the young Dothraki greeted.

Sevanna simply nodded in response before turning to Daenerys.

“Princess, this is Rakharo. He’s the captain of the horses and the one that spent the most time with the mare Jon gifted you.”

Rakharo nodded humbly at her. Daenerys gave a small smile in return.

Daenerys absolutely adored the mare her husband had gifted her. She was so well tempered and gentle. Daenerys had never ridden in her life and feared the embarrassment and humiliation if she were to be thrown off by the snow white Dornish Sand, but it hadn’t come to pass. Instead, the mare had responded well to her commands and trotted slowly behind her husband and his black mount.

“The scarred man next to him is Lagras. He hails from Ghaen by Old Valyria. He doesn’t speak but responds in nods and shakes of his head. He’s the captain of the elephants.”

 “He does” Rakharo piped in.

Sevanna turned to him in surprise.

“Two days ago when in council. Scar man talk and surprise everyone. He give good advice and Jon take it” the young Dothraki sound as if it were the most obvious of news. “However…he no speak again. He go back to shaking and nodding head.”

As if to prove his point, Lagras nodded.

Sevanna merely stared at the scarred man before turning away from him and to Daenerys.

“Lagras doesn’t speak _much_ but he does a wonderous of work with elephants. He used to work with them when he was in Volantis, the city where I was born. That’s why Jon made him captain.”

Daenerys could understand that. It was strange to have a man that couldn’t speak in a position of power, but he was paramount in working with the deadly animals that aided in the victory of the company.

“Well, the Princess is tired and I don’t believe she has eaten anything at all. We must bid you farewell” Sevanna informed the two men.

Rakharo and Lagras nodded before bowing their heads in respect to them.

“Come” Sevanna beckoned to her. “We can eat our lunch, though I believe it will be you breaking your fast, by your tent. You’ve already met most of Jon’s captains, which means the only ones left are Asher and Arthur. It seems that the commander has left without much word with his friend, so we’ll end this little tour with Arthur instead.”

**Pentos**

Prince’s Market

There was noise everywhere. Merchants and people bartered with one another to trade their goods.

“I can’t believe we haven’t come across a damn flower merchant” Asher frowned.

It was true. Both men had wandered aimlessly around the large market and had been stopped by merchants that traded in spices, silk, weapons and books but none had a single flower in sight.

“So” Asher started as they passed a vendor that tried offering them fruit, “what do you think about this entire plan with Dorne? You think it has merit?”

Jon pushed a courtesan that pressed her bosom against his arm.

“I don’t know” he replied. “The plan has some intelligence. Mainly the part about invading The Reach. I heard House Martell has some sort of animosity with House Tyrell. Is that true?”

Asher nodded.

“Then it’s a smart plan” Jon said. “He’s promising a princess of Dorne to be Queen while also taking out an enemy house. With the food from House Tyrell, we’ll be able to feed our armies and elephants. It’s a smart plan from there on. The problem I have is the deal Viserys wants to make with the Iron Bank.”

They pushed past more courtesans.

“What, don’t think they’ll give him the loan?”

“Aye, that’s my main concern. Dorne doesn’t have enough ships to transport us all from Tyrosh. Perhaps they can ferry us at a time, but, by then, the crown will have realized our movements and we’ll lose the ability to launch a surprise attack against The Reach. No, he needs to get that loan from the bank and take us in one fleet.”

“So, what’s the problem with the loan?”

Asher was a warrior. He was good at killing people and training others to kill more people. That came at a cost. Asher completely ignored politics and how the world around them revolved.

“The problem” Jon started “is that the Iron Bank won’t make an investment unless they can see a high reward or payoff. To get a loan for such a fleet, Viserys will need someone that can speak with confidence and the ability to persuade the bank to give him the loan. I don’t see Viserys with that ability. He’ll more thank likely make a demand as “rightful King”.”

Asher snorted.

They both looked at each other with small smiles before breaking out into small fits of laughter.

When they finally controlled themselves, Jon went on.

“I know Mopatis’ type. He’s a crafty son of a bitch that will pounce on any opportunity. The problem is that he only sees the opportunity in front of him. The Iron Bank is full of crafty men, so Viserys is going to need someone that can turn nothing into something. Where he’ll get that somebody is beyond me. I’ll just do what he’s told me. The further I get away from him the better, even if it’s in vain and I have to help him myself in the coming months.”

“Jon!”

Jon sharply turned to his friend. Asher had a full grin on his rugged but handsome features.

“What is it Asher?”

“Look” he exclaimed, pointing in a direction.

Jon’s eyes widened when he saw it. It was a flower merchant. An assortment of flowers were on display as he called out to the passing people that ignored him. The merchant deflated as yet another consumer passed him without a glance. The merchant didn’t know it, but he was about to have the start to one of the best days of his life.

Asher and Jon walked towards the man before the latter’s attention was caught by another merchant.

“Books and Tomes from Old Valyria. Translated in the common tongue.”

Jon stopped in his tracks. He turned to the merchant to his right, a small man with pale skin, bright blue eyes and greying hair. It may have been the light, but Jon swore he could see a flash of silver in it.

“Young man” the merchant greeted as he beckoned him over. “Books and Tomes from Old Valyria.”

Various books were laid out in front of him. Each looked authentic and old. The leather was weathered but each sat atop a book that looked pristine and new. He assumed they were the translated versions.

“They entail the history of the dragon riders of Old Valyria. The politics and schemes. There’s even two books on dragons, though they’re all gone. Still a wonder and enjoyment to read. Even the Citadel in Westeros don’t have these” the merchant tapped his nose with a finger.

Jon looked at them in wonder. There were fifteen in total.

“How much” Jon asked the book merchant.

“200 gold coins for the entire set. 15 gold coins for each book individually.”

Asher’s eyes bulged from his sockets. He obviously wasn’t in agreement with the price. However, Jon was. They were perfect to him.

“How’s this” Jon started, “my wife and I married the past day.”

“Congratulations” the merchant said with a smile.

“I came here to buy her some flowers but I believe she’d enjoy these books.”

Jon took out his pouch of gold coins and shook it. He carried only 100 golden coins with him at a time. He had more, much more, throughout his victory over the past two years. And his value had stayed steadily due to his reluctance at overspending on ridiculous things such as sheets and clothes and fragrances.

_Not anymore. I hear keeping a wife happy is an expensive business._

“I’ll give you 50 coins right now if you deliver the flowers, along with these books, for me to my camp outside the city. Do that, and I’ll give you 300 golden coins when you do.”

Asher turned to his friend in bewilderment. No doubt thinking he had lost his mind. The merchant simply shook in excitement.

“Of course” the merchant exclaimed. “I can do that for you. Where will I be taking them exactly?”

He was practically bouncing on his feet. Jon smiled.

“To the main tent of the Golden Company. Tell them I called for you and my men will let you pass without harm.”

The merchant paused as he looked at him with wide eyes.

“A-and. What is your name ser?”

Jon looked down at the merchant with a small smile.

“Jon Snow. Commander of the Golden Company.”

The air around them stopped as did the noise. People began to whisper as more courtesans began to approach the two with renewed determination.

“Jon Snow” the merchant whispered. “Your wife…Daenerys Targaryen. A Targaryen. From Old Valyria!”

Jon simply nodded as he walked off. Asher matching his step in tow. They began their fight anew, pushing desperate courtesans away with greater force than before.

“Books” Asher grunted. “That’s what you’re getting your wife? Books?”

“From Old Valyria” Jon pointed out. “I think she’ll love them. I know I always wanted to know about the North. That’s why I kept you and Ser Marlon so close. I wanted to hear the tales from the origin of my last name.

Asher shook his head as he pushed another woman away. They were making their way closer and closer to the flower merchant.

“Books” Jon continued “are the weapons of the intelligent. Wisdom is far greater than any sword.”

Asher gave him a blank stare.

“Jon” he said.

“Yes?”

“I hope Princess Daenerys keeps her legs closed forever.”

Jon ignored him as they approached the flower merchant who looked at him with wide eyes.

“Commander” the merchant gasped. “It is an honor to meet you. We have heard the tales about the man that defeated a Dothraki horde at the Gates of Norvos.”

“Please” Jon started shyly “exaggerated tales. I had the help of the terrain and the city on my side.”

“While they outnumbered us” Asher muttered.

Jon gave him a warning look that his friend completely ignored.

“Yes” the merchant said. “How can I help you commander?”

“Please, call me Jon”

“How may I help you commander Jon?”

Asher snorted as Jon sighed.

“I’m looking for a bouquet to gift my wife. I’m not sure what she likes so I’m merely looking based on how I feel she will respond.”

The merchant nodded as he went over to a section of his stall.

“These are all my roses. They are in different colors for your content. Roses are a safe choice for the first step in wooing a woman, I assure you.”

Jon nodded at the man and stepped to the section where the roses were displayed. He skipped over the pink and red ones. The white ones matched her color, but Jon ultimately felt it was unoriginal as that was why he gifted her the white Dornish Sand.

He stopped when his eyes fell over the violet roses. They matched her eyes.

“These ones are beautiful” Jon pointed them out to the merchant.

“Yes” the merchant agreed. “Violet roses from Lys. The glow vibrantly under the moonlight. Will these be the flowers for your bouquet?”

Jon nodded and the merchant began plucking the roses to fashion them together. Jon was ready to content himself with his decision when his eyes were caught by a small group of flowers.

They were blue and kissed in certain areas by white. It was almost as if they were touched by frost.

Jon reached out a hand to feel them. They were cool.

“Winter roses” Asher informed him.

The merchant stopped his plucking as he noticed the look upon Jon’s face. He gave a smile.

“They are grown in the glass gardens of Winterfell. From there they are taken to white harbor before they are transported here by ship.”

Jon barely heard the man as he stayed enraptured by the bloom in front of him.

“On second thought” he whispered “I’ll take the violet roses, but make one of these its centerpiece.”

Asher looked at him with a furrowed brow as the merchant complied with his request with a smile.

When the bouquet was completed, Jon reached for his pouch of gold coins.

“And how much will it be?”

“For the newly wed Commander of the Golden Company and The Princess Daenerys Targaryen? Consider it a gift from me?”

Jon began his protest. He couldn’t possibly take such a beautiful bouquet for free, but the merchant had raised a hand in silence.

“Please, for you to have graced me with your presence when no one else would is payment in itself. You have possibly brought my humble stall some attention.”

As Jon and Asher turned around, they saw that the merchant spoke truly. Young children tugged at their parents’ sleeves in glee as they pointed at the roses on display. Young maidens swooned as they saw the bouquet he held. Young suitors observing the maidens made to capitalize on their opportunity by approaching the flower merchant with their coin pouches in hand.

With a nod toward the florist, Jon turned on his heel and dropped off the bouquet with the book merchant from before.

**Camp**

Daenerys truly enjoyed the Volantene woman’s company. She was gentle and nice but also commanded the respect of the men in the camp around them. Even the captains. Daenerys desperately wished she could have her confidence.

But she didn’t. She was merely a shy and weak girl. Spending the day around Sevanna had made her realize that.

They had dined outside the tent on spiced beef with carrot stew. It was delicious.

They sat and spoke about the beautiful day and how nice the sun felt on their skin. They then spoke about her dragons eggs and all the gifts she had received for her wedding. The beautiful dresses, the oils, the silks and especially the Dornish Sand her husband had gifted her.

It brought a smile to Sevanna’s face when Daenerys told her how much she adored the mare.

They were then interrupted by an imposing figure making its way towards them. Daenerys looked at him in recognition. It was hard to miss those violet eyes that reminded her of her own.

“Arthur” Sevanna greeted with a smile.

“Sevanna” he greeted back. A smile mirroring hers.

The man turned to Daenerys and bowed his head in respect.

“Princess” he greeted.

“Daenerys” Sevanna said “this is Ser Arthur. He’s the Captain-General to Jon’s army. That means he’s second in command in the case that Jon is absent, which he seems to be.”

Arthur gave a rueful smile.

“Second?”

Both adults turned to her.

“I thought…that it was Asher that was second in command. He seems to be my husband’s closest friend…”

Sevanna had a horrified look upon her face while Arthur gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Close” he said in his deep voice. “He’s the Captain-Legate of the company. Meaning that should Jon or I be out of availability, leadership falls to Asher. Making him third in line. You weren’t far off Princess.”

Arthur gave a comforting smile. She didn’t understand, but she felt warm by it.

“How Asher was made lieutenant will always escape me” Sevanna muttered darkly.

Arthur turned to the Volantene.

“I don’t understand your gripe against him, but Asher is a commendable man and capable leader. He’s inspired Jon on the odd occasion. He may be rough with his manner of speaking and his actions don’t always agree with the courtesy of others, but he’s a good man. And he’s Jon’s friend. For that, I trust him.”

Sevanna merely huffed.

Arthur shook his head in amusement before turning to Daenerys with a serious expression.

“Is everything to your liking princess? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Huh? Oh…yes, everything’s fine ser” She said with a small voice.

Arthur nodded and made to leave but suddenly Daenerys remembered something and she just had to know.

“Ser Arthur!”

He stopped. He turned to give her his undivided attention with his hand upon his beautiful sword.

“Yes, princess?”

“You are Ser Arthur Dayne, correct? The Sword of the Morning?”

Arthur nodded.

She had to know.

“My brother said you were a Kingsguard to our father.”

Arthur visibly tensed but she pushed on, her confidence daring after the newfound respect she seemed to receive from all the soldiers in her husband’s camp.

“However, he told me that a Kingsguard’s vows were for life. You were sworn to House Targaryen. Why didn’t you come looking for us?”

Arthur looked down at his feet in concentration, searching for an answer to give her.

“Is my husband your son?”

He looked up at her with wide eyes before shaking his head.

“No, he isn’t. I raised the boy all his life. I…I see him as my son. I very much would like to call him my own…but…no, he isn’t.”

He paused as if the next words he would say would cause him pain.

“He’s the son of a good friend of mine. Two good friends of mine.”

She had to know.

“Who” Daenerys asked the Dornish knight.

Arthur shook his head with closed eyes before looking at her with a sad smile.

“One day, princess, I’ll tell you. I never joined you earlier because you were always away. I _did_ look for you. For years I chased yours and prince Viserys’ trails, but you two were always one step away. I eventually gave up and hoped that Ser Darry was keeping you two safe. I devoted myself to Jon after.”

He adjusted his sword and stood to full attention.

“Jon Snow is a good man. The finest I ever knew, and I’ve known many. One day, you will understand. I will tell you then…but not today. Princess.”

He finished the last word with a bow before turning on his heel and walking away with haste.

Both women sat in awkward silence.

Sevanna broke the noiseless air around them.

“Would you like to go riding?”

Daenerys perked up and nodded fervently at the woman beside her; which garnered a few chuckles.

“You say that mare of yours is well tempered, but it’s best to familiarize yourself as quickly as possible. Creating a bond with your mount will make riding all that much easier. Plus, on the road to Myr, we won’t be riding carriages but our horses.”

Sevanna paused as they approached the hitched horses by the main tent.

“Unless you’d rather walk alongside us” Sevanna inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Daenerys shook her head.

“I thought not.”

Daenerys approached her white mare and caressed her cheek down to her muzzle. The mare simply leaned in to her touch, enjoying the affection.

“You are a natural” Sevanna said.

The woman was currently patting the mane of her horse, a Chestnut palfrey. Daenerys could tell it was a wild thing, shaking and bouncing on its hooves as Sevanna led her to them.

“Do you need help mounting?”

Daenerys looked to the saddle of her horse, the stirrups hanging loosely to the side. She turned to Sevanna and gave a “yes”.

“Alright, I won’t teach you the traditional method since you’re wearing a dress. Out of all the gifts you received, I didn’t see any riding breeches among them. Not to worry, we can go into the market tomorrow and find a pair. Right, you’ll have to ride sideways. Not a bad way to ride, but it’ll get uncomfortable as time passes by; and we’ll be doing plenty of long riding on the road to Myr.”

Sevanna surveyed Daenerys with pondering finger before sucking her teeth.

“Right, it can’t be helped. You’ll need a step to get on, but just this time.”

Sevanna motioned for a passing squire to fetch a stepping stool and waited until the boy came running with it.

“Thank you, boy” she told him.

The boy merely nodded to Sevanna before giving a respectful bow to Daenerys. It still baffled her, even after seeing it countless times that day.

When Daenerys successfully mounted, Sevanna walked to her horse and did the same as she. It seemed that she also hadn’t been hiding any riding breeches under that dress of hers.

“Well” Sevanna said “shall we?”

They rode of slowly and gently to the outskirts of the camp where there was free terrain for them to ride.

Just outside the camp

Asher and Jon rode in from the city. The day was tiring, as they had not realized how far the market was from Illyrio Mopatis’ manse (where they had hitched their horses).

It seemed an easy task at first until they realized how much walking they would have to do in the market when not a single damn flower merchant was in sight until the later portions.

Luckily, they were now back at camp. They could relax themselves and probably take a quick nap in their respective tents.

They rode up to the main tent where all the captains set up their own tents and hitched their horses. However, when Jon went to hitch Scorpion to his usual post, he noticed that Daenerys’ mare was not there. Neither was Sevanna’s horse next to Arthur’s.

He looked around aimlessly until he saw The Sword of the Morning approach him.

“Arthur” Jon called out to him, “where is my wife’s horse?”

Asher had finished dismounting by now.

“I saw her riding out towards the fields with Sevanna.”

Jon nodded. That was a good idea. Experience on a horse would do her well on their journey to Myr. He could go into the city and buy her a carriage, but he somehow found that he would rather she ride alongside him. He would make the journey slow for a bit, but she’d learn eventually to ride at his pace.

Asher yawned loudly.

“I think I’m going to hit the hay for a bit” Asher told them.

He did not wait for their response before walking off, unbuckling his sword belt as he did so.

“So” Arthur said behind him “how’d the meeting with Viserys go?”

Jon turned to his mentor.

“Surprisingly everything I could ever hope for.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

So, Jon told Arthur everything that transpired. Arthur listened with patience and widened his eyes here and there. When Jon was done with his story, Arthur stood in silence for a few seconds.

“That’s a good plan” Arthur muttered.

Jon nodded in agreement.

“So…Viserys will stay here?”

Jon turned to him.

“Yes. He will go to Braavos and ask the Iron Bank for a loan to buy the remaining ships needed to ferry us to Westeros.”

Arthur nodded.

“That’s good” he muttered.

“Why is that good?”

Arthur merely smiled into the distance.

When it was clear that he would receive no response, Jon simply brushed it off. He then told Arthur of how he went into the market in search of a flower to gift Daenerys. How he ended up purchasing books and their translations from Old Valyria.

“Now that is a good gift. And you thought about the books all on your own. Much better than having to tell you of the forgotten mare in your possession or some flowers by Asher.”

Jon’s ears burned.

“I just thought she’d like to read some books from there. I don’t think she knows much about Valyria past what her brother has probably told her.”

“It’s a good gift” Arthur nodded. “It came purely from your intentions. That makes it all the more special. Which reminds me…”

“What” Jon inquired.

“Where’d you learn how to talk to girls?”

Jon fumbled with the reigns of his horse.

“What?!”

“Yesterday, before you and the princess rode off, you gave a smooth line about making her a new saddle if she didn’t like the one she already had. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“It was just a good gesture” Jon remarked with a burning face.

Arthur shrugged.

“Fine, then where are the flowers and the books?”

“Oh, I didn’t have enough money to buy the books, so I made a deal with the vendor. If he delivered the books along with the bouquet of flowers, I would pay the man 300 gold coins.”

Arthur whistled.

“That’s a lot of coin.”

“Aye” Jon said. “But, I thought it’d be worth it.”

Arthur nodded.

“Hopefully they’re gone riding for a while. I’d like for the books and flowers to be waiting for her when she comes back to her tent.”

“Her tent?” Arthur questioned.

“Aye. I plan to move her to her own tent so she can be comfortable.”

Arthur merely glanced at him from the side which went completely unnoticed by the young man next to him.

“Wait” Arthur started “so you’re planning to court a woman with gifts and then set her aside?”

“I’m not setting her aside” Jon protested.

“Yes, you are. You’re placing her in a different tent than yours. That’s the definition of setting aside. A man and wife should sleep within the same space.”

“Women have their own chambers in Westeros” Jon argued “regardless if they are married or not. Why is this different?”

“Because they live within their own castle surrounded by loyal subjects. Your men here follow you, but they are driven by gold and not utter devotion like your captains. They will not hesitate to make a move on your lonely bride” Arthur hissed.

“She won’t be alone. She’ll be positioned here where I’m surrounded by my captains.”

“Oh, and I suppose we’ll all be awake at all hours? We will all gain the ability to sense her distress when a knight or squire sneaks into her tent, covers her mouth and her screams as he takes her?”

Jon felt sick at the assumption of it happening.

“It won’t. I’ll position sentries to parole around the area.”

Arthur nodded.

“Until it’s the sentry doing the raping.”

Jon scowled.

“You know, you’re a terrible mentor. First you guilt me into this marriage and now you want to force me to lay every night next to a woman that wants nothing to do with me.”

“I didn’t guilt you into anything. I’m merely advising you to make smart decisions. Placing your wife in a separate area isn’t one of them.”

Jon growled as he walked towards his tent.

“Fine! Have it your way. She’ll sleep next to me. She’ll lie next to me. And when I can’t control myself one of these days and take her, you’ll be the one to explain it to her why it was this way.”

Arthur spun him by the shoulder.

“You won’t! I believe in you. I know you’re a good man. You would never hurt her.”

“And what if I did?!”

“We’re not all perfect.”

“Gods! Do you listen to yourself? I’m not some divine being Arthur. Why do you insist I’m filled of heart and chivalry? I’m just a boy. Not even a man. I can’t control myself. I’m a bastard. Born of sin. I’m not the person you think I am!”

Arthur simply stared at the boy in front of him.

“I told you Arthur. I’m tired. I don’t even know why I continue to do this sometimes. Why some of my captains and sergeants look at me as if I’m some savior come to solve their problems. I’m just a kid. I’m only six and ten. I want to be a kid. I want to swim in the sea. I want to hunt rabbits. I want to go to sleep and wake up without wondering what my next move will be and what contract I’ll take.”

Arthur looked at him sadly.

“Whatever” Jon said. “I’m going to sleep. Tell a squire that if they see a merchant with books and flowers, to send them to me.”

He began to walk into his tent when the Dornishman’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Jon”

Jon waited by the curtains of the entrance.

“Wait” Arthur said. “I have something to tell you. I should’ve told you when you took command. No, sooner than that.”

Jon turned to him.

“Tell me what?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Not here. Somewhere where no one will be around us.”

“I have gifts I’m waiting on for Daenerys…”

“Have a squire give it. This can’t wait any longer.”

Jon stared dumbly.

“At least let me write a letter for her.”

Arthur nodded.

“Alright. I have something I need to get first as well. Meet me at the stony shore, where you married.”

Arthur turned on his heel and walked towards his tent.

Jon stared at his figure until he disappeared behind the flaps and went to do what he intended.

As he finished writing the letter, Jon called for a squire.

“Yes commander?”

“Listen. A vendor of books will be here, I do not know when. However, when he does, he’ll have books and flowers for my wife. I want you to place them in our tent and I want you to set this letter atop the books but beneath the bouquet. Is that clear?”

“Of course, commander” the squire nodded.

“Good”

**Later**

Daenerys and Sevanna came riding into the camp with smiles upon their faces. Their hair was windswept from the riding but both women could hardly care.

Daenerys had managed to further the bond with her mare and could not be happier for it.

“What an eventful evening” Sevanna said.

Daenerys nodded with a smile.

“We probably stink like every single one of these soldiers.”

Daenerys giggled.

“I think I’m going to wash up and rest for the day. No doubt Arthur has missed me. You should wash up as well. I’ll call for some maidens to help you.”

They both rode up to main camp and Sevanna frowned.

“That’s strange” she whispered.

“What is” Daenerys asked.

“Asher’s horse is here, but Jon’s horse is still gone. Actually…Arthur’s horse is gone as well.”

Daenerys looked at the hitching post to confirm the woman’s assumption. She was right.

Sevanna merely sighed and shook her head.

“More than likely they rode off to do some training someplace discreet. Oh well, it can’t be helped.”

Both women hitched their horses and waived their goodbyes as they made their way to their respective tents.

A maiden entered the tent with her, and Daenerys sat by the table in the separate room as the maiden filled the tub with hot water. When she finished, Daenerys informed her that she could bathe herself and was promptly left alone.

* * *

 

As she finished dressing in her nightgown, Daenerys walked into the sleeping portion of her tent and gasped.

Her chest of dragon eggs was placed in the corner, opened, with burning candles surrounding each egg.

However, that isn’t what surprised her. Next to the side where she slept on the night before, was a table with a variety of books. Atop the books sat a bouquet of roses.

Daenerys walked slowly to the side table and sat down on her side of the bed. She reached for the bouquet and marveled at its beauty.

Plentiful of violet roses were ordained in a circle, each of them the color of her eyes; but it was the centerpiece that was most gorgeous. A blue flower with specks of white.

As she placed her hand upon the petal of the blue bloom, a coolness spread among her fingers. She plucked the rose from its bouquet and placed it to her nose to smell it. She closed her eyes to take in its scent.

_Fresh and lively._

That was as best she could describe it. Its smell was wonderful and made her heart thump wildly, yet she did not know why.

When she opened her eyes, Daenerys’ heart froze when she saw a letter lying upon the books.

With a shaking hand, she reached for it.

_Daenerys,_

_I can’t begin to imagine how much this marriage has affected you. I could see from that day that I laid my eyes upon you, that you did not want anything to do with me. Much less be bound to me by marriage. In truth, I was almost inclined to reject the proposal, but I was convinced that you would not appreciate a marriage to Khal Drogo instead. I cannot prove my good intentions to you through words alone, and the gods know how much I resisted in taking you our wedding night. I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight before in my life. Not even Sevanna, my mother in all but blood, compares to you._

_Enough with that. I’m sure you’ve heard of your beauty countless times and my words will have no effect on you whatsoever. So, I must hide my lack of romance with gifts. The White Dornish Sand I gifted you, it was not my idea. My mentor, Arthur, presented the idea to me. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, feel free to tell yourself it was me. If you didn’t, I just want you to know it was Arthur._

_Even the flowers, an idea I’m grateful for now, were suggested by my good friend and legate, Asher. That’s why I’m proud in buying the books you see before you. Original copies and their translations from Old Valyria. I thought it would bring you joy to read of the ancestry of your blood. And with those beautiful dragon eggs, that are now stone, I bring stories regarding the fire breathing beasts themselves._

_But, the gift for which I’m most proud of are the roses. Yes, I know I told you they were Asher’s idea. But the choice of blooms were my own. The violet roses from Lys reminded me of the eyes that enchanted me. And the Winter Rose, a flower from the North, reminded me of my home and family that I have never seen. I hope that the combination of these two will show my willingness and devotion to you for the further future._

_-Your Husband, Jon._

As Daenerys set the letter down, her heart beat with more passion than it did before. She did not register the sounds around her or outside her tent. She did not feel the biting air as it touched her still wet skin.

She could not feel the tears that wetted her cheeks as they slowly rolled down.

She wasn’t ugly.

He had told her so in her letter. He wanted her. And she now wanted him.

He almost took her but chose against it.

And for a brief moment, she wished he had.

Daenerys laid on her side, on the bed she shared with her husband. And with a tentative smile, she brought the winter rose up to her nose one last time… and drifted happily into sleep.


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets with Arthur at the stony shore for their discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how it goes people, upload first, edit grammar later.

**299 AC**

Stony Shore – Pentos

The sun was beginning to go down. The way the sea was illuminated in a pinkish glow was reminiscent to the ending of his wedding night when he and his wife had ridden back to camp. The sea was crashing against the stones in the shore and Jon could make out Arthur standing atop the stone where Jon had sat with Daenerys.

“Arthur” Jon called out as he walked towards his lifelong friend and mentor.

The Sword of the Morning was currently facing away from him, watching the waves as they slowly neared them before starting anew out in the shallows of the water. It was a beautiful sight, Jon admitted to himself, but he hadn’t allowed himself the opportunity to enjoy the view the day past. Not even when he rode with his wife in a similar setting, as he had quickly led them to their tent.

“Jon” Arthur said with a faraway voice.

Jon could now see the detail in Arthur’s weathered armor. The steel plating adorned with chinks and scratches and dents. Still, it managed to have a lustrous shine in the fading sun. Under the armor, he wore a thin black leather jerkin. It was similar to the jerkin that Jon wore, only that Jon cut off the sleeves to allow his body to be as cool as possible. Despite living in Essos all his life, he could never get used to the continent’s heat. Jon kept walking until he was next to his mentor of twelve years. When Jon had turned four, he had begged Arthur to teach him sword play in Braavos, the city where his nameday was held, and the Dornish knight had taken to training him every free moment he could spare. Sevanna took to teaching him everything else: literature, penmanship, arithmancy and reading. She would take him riding when both were bored beyond their wits, swimming in the rivers and chasing each other through the grassy fields. It was a comfort, Jon knew it now; a way to distract him from the hardships of riding with the company.  Jon had lived on his horse. It was what he knew best. Until his tenth nameday, he would share a horse with Sevanna. At first, he would ride seated at the front of the horse, Sevanna’s arms acting as a rope to hold him in place as she took the reins until, eventually, he was allowed to clutch Sevanna with his arms around her waist as he took a seat behind her. Jon fancied himself an able rider, and if anyone should take the credit for that it would be his former wet nurse.

“Arthur” he replied. “Did Sevanna send you to scold me all the way out here?”

His mentor snorted.

“You know very well that woman doesn’t need a proxy to coddle or discipline you. Especially, to discipline you.”

“Then why bring me all the way out here? Are you here to scold me yourself? Come off it Arthur, you know how dull it gets within the camp. But, if you must know, I was planning on waiting for you. Asher had a differing idea.”

Arthur chuckled at that with a nod.

“Aye, I figured it was his idea to head into the city. However, no, I have no plans on scolding you like a child. The moment you took command of this company I became ever your servant and advisor. I’m here to advise but nothing more…but I must admit. Perhaps I haven’t been wholly truthful. Even now. It seems that in trying to protect the family I was sworn to, I have manipulated you into a marriage you did not want. For that, I’m sorry.”

Jon waived him off.

“There’s no need to apologize Arthur. You may not be my father, but you are my oldest friend. I will always listen and need you by my side.”

He placed a reassuring hand on the Dornish Knight’s shoulder.

“Always.”

Arthur smiled down before he looked at him with sad eyes.

“Even when you know the truth? When I tell you all of it? You will still listen to me? To consider my advice. And need me by your side?”

Jon smiled.

“Always my friend.”

Arthur huffed out a humorless laugh as he scuffed the rock with his boot.

“I pray you feel the same way afterwards.”

Jon looked down to where Arthur scuffed the edge of the rock and only then noticed the long cloth-wrapped object hidden behind the stone where he sat upon for his wedding. Arthur trailed his line of sight with his own before sighing and jumping off the stone and taking a seat. He motioned for Jon to join him with his hand. As Jon took his place, Arthur bent over to grab the object and hold it with his hands. It looked like it was wrapped several times in thick cloth (and leather?) yet Arthur held it carefully as if afraid that the cloth would slice his palms.

“When you came riding in earlier with Asher” Arthur began “and when you told me of what Viserys planned. I knew that this could wait no longer. There would be no more withholding of this information from you. The opportunity could not be better.”

Jon looked at him with reserved features, but anyone could see the desperation in his eyes.

“What information, Arthur?”

However, Arthur ignored his question to look him directly into his eyes with a hardened gaze.

“Jon, no matter what I tell you. No matter how much it changes, you are still the same man I know right now. This won’t change who you are. The man you are right now, is the man you were before and the man you will be after. I swear this to you Jon. You’re a good man.”

“Arthur” he pressed with vigor “what information?”

They stared at one another for seconds until Arthur turned the object over and began unwrapping the cloth that surrounded it. As the layers lessened and drew neared to the object, Jon realized he was correct in his assumption, as the last binding was indeed a thin wrap of leather. Arthur, almost paused in time as his hands hovered over the leather, almost debating if he should show it in the end. It was clear as day that the object in question was a sword, a bastard sword by the looks of things, yet Arthur seemed to stay paused in time. This only frustrated Jon, who was in half a mind to snatch the wrapped sword from his hands and reveal it himself. Sensing his thoughts, Arthur took a deep breath before uncovering the leather and revealing a rippled, dark smoky hued blade.

Jon stared at it, enraptured by the beauty of the blade, admiring the swirls and rippled texture of the metal. Arthur had unwrapped the bladed portion of the sword but kept its hilt wrapped firmly with an enclosed fist.

“Valyrian Steel” Arthur said.

Jon looked at him briefly before returning his gaze down to the fabled sword in front of him.

“So, this is Valyrian Steel…” he whispered with awe.

It was safe to say that Jon had _never_ seen a Valyrian metaled blade in his life. Perhaps he should have been able to deduce the sword’s material after a short while, seeing as he had read many books as a child. Many of them on battles and warriors. Leaders and wars. Weapons were included in such books and perhaps the most popular were the two Targaryen swords, Dark Sister and Blackfyre. First hand witnesses described their properties as swords with a rippled but smooth texture and a darkened smoky hue. If the rumors were true then the blades never dulled and retained their sharp edge. Lighter than steel but just as durable, if not more so.

“A fine, beautiful and rare metal” Arthur said with a wistful look. “…Not as rare as Dawn but just as magical nonetheless.”

Jon turned to him and snorted at the humorous glint in the Dornishman’s violet eyes. Dawn, the pale greatsword of House Dayne. A weapon so valuable that it’d be deemed to only be passed onto the worthiest of knights of House Dayne rather from father to heir. It was safe to say that membership of such a “guild” was exclusive.

“I don’t know…the blade would be easily noticeable in the dark. Plus, the knowledge to craft such a metal is lost to the ages. All I need is to find a fallen star and I could have my own Dawn crafted.”

The Sword of the Morning looked aghast at such a claim and was prepared to defend the honor of his blade with poorly hidden rage. It wasn’t until he saw the northerner laughing into his lap that the man’s anger simmered, but bubbled presently nonetheless.

“Hmph. If such a task would be easy, then I bid you good fortune in finding a fallen star and crafting your own weapon.”

“If I did, I would certainly name it a far better name than “Dawn”.”

Arthur had a scandalized look.

“What?” He sputtered. “This sword has been wielded in my family for ages. Since the founding of Starfall.”

“Peace, Ser Arthur. I’m not devaluing your family’s ancestral sword, but merely scrutinizing its lackluster name. That is all.”

“Then what would you name it?”

“Hmm. Give me a second. What would you name it? Surely you, as well as I, realize its inapt name given its origin.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder and to his horse, where Dawn was currently strapped. His former ward had a point, Arthur admitted begrudgingly, Dawn did seem a lackluster name. However, considering there were Valyrian blades named “Lady Forlorn” and “Heartsbane”, Dawn certainly wasn’t the worst in the naming category. Seven Hells, Arthur would even be willing to believe that Dawn was a far better name than the ancestral sword of House Stark, “Ice”.

Arthur turned to the young man beside him once again.

“Tell me, what are your reasons for being disappointed in her name?”

Jon tore away his eyes from the Valyrian blade in Arthur’s hands and looked up at the now darkened sky in wonder. How proper, that the stars would show themselves, just as Jon and Arthur debated the title of the sword forged from one of their fallen brothers or sisters.

“I guess, because when I think of Dawn, I think about the beginning of a new day. Perhaps it isn’t the worst title, but still not the best. Yes, its milky white luster is reminiscent of the sun as it rises, but it is not the sun. It is a star. Stars are objects of the night.”

“Perhaps the Sun is a star as well? There is still much unknown about this world.”

Jon snorted.

“Aye. And perhaps the White Walkers were real. And the world is round!”

They stared at one another before chuckling into the night.

“Yes” Arthur replied “the notion does seem ridiculous. How can the Sun be a star when it leaves as the stars come out?”

Jon nodded his agreement.

“However,” Arthur continued “how do we know such a notion isn’t possible? The concept of dragons. Large, flying fire breathing beasts. Ridiculous! Yet there are reliable accounts of their sighting. Especially when Aegon conquered Westeros”

He finished the last sentence ominously, but Jon was too busy with the ridiculousness of a star-like sun.

“Dragons” Jon whispered loudly as he gazed up at the bright stars. His entire face and features lit up palely by the moonlight. He did not see the sad eyes of his friend. The eyes of a person recognizing a long lost friend. “How marvelous. A continent separated and then united as one. A world, warriored by thousands, brought to heel by three. I wish I could have seen them. To be a dragon.”

Arthur looked on, in soft happiness, at the sight of his commander’s childlike mannerisms as he smiled up longingly at the star filled sky. It was these rare moments that Arthur reminisced on the days where they, along with Sevanna, travelled as one. It should have been like this forever. But it could not be. Jon…no…Jaehaerys was meant for far greater things. He was born his father’s son. The true King of Westeros. He was brought out of his recollection when Jon turned to him, his grey eyes shining with happiness.

“Remember those books you gifted me as a child, Ser Arthur? The ones with all the Targaryen Kings of old?”

Arthur gave him a small smile and nodded.

“I used to run around the campsite. “I’m Daeron Targaryen, The Young Dragon.” Six and ten, yet he did what his ancestors couldn’t with their fire breathing beasts.”

“Yes, he did” Arthur nodded. “But his conquest lasted a summer that cost the lives of thousands of men. Dorne was taken from him just as soon as he won it.”

Jon tried to waive him off.

“Yes, but…” he trailed off. “He only lost it because the viceroy he chose was weak and inept. And! They murdered him shamefully when they invited him under the false guise of a peaceful banner. He would have sure corrected his mistakes the second coming around.”

“Then perhaps your Boy King should have known the character of his men better and read up a bit more on successful dynasties instead of playing war. Let that be a lesson to you as well. In the game of life, there usually aren’t any second opportunities. Especially not for those in positions of leadership and power.”

Jon scowled as he looked away but Arthur pressed on.

“Do you know why slavery is currently successful in the East? Why there are slaves in all but name here?”

“Slavery is wrong” Jon muttered.

“Yes, it is. But that’s not what I asked you. Tell me, why don’t the slaves rebel against the masters? They have the numbers.”

“Because the masters employ guards against defenseless slaves.”

“No” Arthur shook his head “that is coincidental. The slaves weren’t always defenseless, they fought at first but ended up in chains at the end. Their defenselessness resulting those years only made their bondage easier. Try again.”

Jon let out a frustrated breath before giving it a long time to think. He went back to his adolescence. All the books he read on militants and leaders. The successful empires and kingdoms.

“They were comfortable” he finally responded.

“Why?” Arthur implored.

“Because their chain masters were their people.” Arthur did not stop him but rather urged him on. He was on the right path. “They felt a sort of “connection” because they were from the same land.”

“That’s right. Funny, how we work. When a foreigner comes to our soil and conquers our people, we have this sense of urgency to retake our land. Yet, when one of our own conquers us we become this dejected shell waiting to build our strength up once again.”

Jon simply stared in front of him with a conflicted gaze.

“But…” Jon started “there can be exceptions…right?”

“Rarely, but yes. There are exceptions. The only one that springs to mind was Aegon the conqueror and his sister wives. Foreigners, to the seven kingdoms, yet brought six of them to heel without much contention before and during their reign. Any explanation why?”

“Dragons” Jon muttered quickly.

“Very good. You were much quicker on that draw.”

Jon gave him a scathing look from the corner of his eye.

“And there are exceptions to the exceptions” Arthur continued “do you have a particular idea what it could be?”

Jon huffed before answering.

“Dorne.”

Arthur nodded.

“Yes. The other kingdoms did not have the good fortune of Dorne. Rugged terrain, sandy dunes that the local folk could use for cover. Mountains with hidden caverns. A perilous road throughout the region. The dragon reliant house was lost in the region. And House Martell was forever known as “Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken”.”

“Until ‘The Young Dragon’” Jon chirped.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“For five seconds, yes. But he made his fatal mistake. I’m sure you know of it by now.”

“Aye” Jon nodded begrudgingly.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me, Jon, what led to your Boy King’s downfall?

Arthur was relishing in his teasing, thoughts about the information he’d have to reveal momentarily forgotten. Jon scowled as he took the time to spit on the ground before answering.

“He placed an outsider in power. A weak one at that.”

“Yes, the Tyrells were never worthy leaders. They mainly relied on their food and its income to keep their vassals loyal. Do not mistake me, having foreigners to act as viceroy _can_ be successful with the right circumstances.”

Jon turned to him with a questioning gaze.

“If you can keep their power in check then a foreign viceroy can be successful. Seven hells Jon, the Targaryens are the perfect example. They had fire breathing beasts that struck fear into the hearts of every lord throughout the kingdoms. Especially after what The Black Dread did to Harrenhal. Understand?”

“Aye. I think I do. So…what Daeron should have done was…sway one of the Dornish Houses to his cause?”

Jon turned to Arthur for confirmation.

“Yes” Arthur nodded. “It pains me to say this, as a Dornishman, but Daeron should have followed in the steps of Aegon The Conqueror when he put the entirety of House Hoare to the flames and appointed House Tully as Lord Paramounts of the Riverlands. Aegon gave Harren a choice and Harren chose wrong. Furthermore, had Aegon let any of his children live then it would have caused further dissent as they would undoubtedly seek vengeance. Better to appoint loyal vassals.”

“I-I understand it! House Targaryen demanded House Martell swear fealty, but House Martell resisted for over one hundred years. They made their decision but ultimately weren’t punished for it, years later. Daeron should have put the entirety of House Martell to the sword to show his power and named the first loyal Dornish House as wardens.”

Arthur smiled as Jon fell onto his back as he stared at the starry sky.

“What a strain on the mind, leading is” Jon sighed. Jon raised a hand to trace the endless stars in the sky. “Arthur.”

Arthur turned to him.

“Did you know that there were astronomers in Old Valyria?”

“Astronomers?” Arthur questioned. He was not familiar with the terminology.

“Aye. Astronomers. I read about them a year or two past. They studied the stars and their positions. There were even texts about these round objects called “planets”. Anyways, they mapped out the stars and gave them names, “constellations.” They believed that the position of the stars could guide us as a sort of map, that’s how people travelled the world before maps. Right Arthur?”

Arthur simply looked up at the stars, his violet eyes studying each bright point.

“I never really gave it much thought” he replied. “I suppose so, sailors still use the stars to measure their distance and how to travel from continent to continent.”

Jon nodded with a smile. He pointed a finger to a series of stars cluttered together out west.

“See those stars over there?” Arthur followed his pointed trail. “In a more recent book, they said that those stars appeared when Daenys ‘The Dreamer’ had her prophetic dream of “The Doom”. They said that following them will lead you to Dragonstone.”

Arthur simply stayed silent. As he studied the cluster of stars, he noticed that they pointed at a slight angle of southwestward rather than a perfect line south. A path that very much could lead one to Dragonstone.

“They call it “The Dragon Path”” Jon continued. As soon as the words left his mouth, The Dragon Path began to light up as stars shot across the night sky in the western direction. Jon sat up with a smile on his face. “Look! The stars are riding the path. Perhaps it’s a sign that Viserys will win his throne after all.”

Arthur looked down at the Valyrian blade in his hands.

“Alright. I’m ready. He’s ready. He’s ready Rhaegar. He’s ready” Arthur muttered silently to himself.

With a movement full of grace, Arthur stood from his seat and knelt in front of his King. The Valyrian blade positioned in a prone position as it lay atop Arthur’s hands.

“Arthur?” Jon questioned with a confused glance.

“Your Grace” Arthur began, eliciting a widened gaze from the boy-no, young man in front of him “I, Arthur, of the House Dayne, do profess my utmost loyalty to yourself and your family. As the last remnant warrior of Aerys’ Kingsguard, I dedicate my services that were required of me as my oath binds me to my post. I present this gift, that is rightfully yours”, Arthur finally unwrapped the leather wrapping around the hilt of the Valyrian blade, showcasing the twin dragons on opposite ends of the cross-guards with a single and lustrous ruby in its center. “I present to you, Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, wielded by Aegon ‘The Conqueror’, sullied by Daemon Blackfyre, and returned rightfully back to its heir, Jaehaerys, of the House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

He raised Blackfyre in its prone position with his head bowed.

Jon did not move from his seat. Jon did not even move within his space. He stayed completely still. The silence eventually became too overbearing for the young commander.

“Arthur, if this is some sort of joke…”

“It isn’t” Arthur cut in. He finally raised his head and stood from his kneeled stance. “Your father was the crown prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, and your mother was Lyanna Stark. You are the last scion of the true royal line.”

“No…no, my mother was a northerner and my father was one of your friends. They weren’t Rhaegar and Lyanna, they can’t be!”

Jon stood atop the stone and began to pace backwards and away to his horse. Arthur was quick with his movements. Arthur took a rising step onto the stone and made towards his king.

“Viserys is the true King. Viserys is a Targaryen. I’m nobody…” Jon said with and empty tone.

“You are Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son. You know it well within your heart. Come now, the thought must have crossed your mind once, at least, during these past years. All the times I’ve avoided your questions, deflected your search for answers. Everything makes sense, doesn’t it Jaehaerys?”

“Stop calling me that! I’m Jon. Jon Snow.”

The gap between the two was starting to increase again. Arthur needed to come clean with everything while letting Jaehaerys piece the puzzle himself.

“When Ser Marlon came, I was desperate to separate the two of you. I knew how much you took to him. You always wanted to surround yourself with northerners from Westeros. You did the same with Asher. When Ser Marlon came and described your likeness to Eddard Stark, I admit I thought it was over. I foolishly told you that only your mother was from the north, I thought you’d figure out that Lyanna Stark was your mother. Come now, Jaehaerys, it should be easy to see. You said it yourself. I’m sworn to House Targaryen and should have taken care of the next line. And I did.”

Jaehaerys froze in his steps while Arthur only advanced and placed a hand on Jaehaerys’ shoulder while the other held Blackfyre.

“Your father was my friend. As was your mother. I promised her that I would take care of you and that I would tell you this one day.”

Jaehaerys looked at him with tear filled eyes. All his life, he wanted to know who his parents were. He had resigned himself to never knowing his true father, but Arthur would let loose a few details of his mother here and there. She was northerner and he had her eyes. Her hair was a bit lighter than his but the same brown, nonetheless. Jaehaerys’ hair looked black as pitch under normal circumstances but reflected brown in the light.

“I don’t suspect she ever believed that you would retake the throne. After all, her beloved brother helped overthrow your grandfather. However, it is my duty as a Targaryen Kingsguard to see a Targaryen sit the throne.”

“Then go to Viserys-“

“Viserys isn’t the rightful king! And even if he was, after the man we just saw and met. You would be willing to gift him control of the seven realms?”

“Aerys named him heir when Rhaegar died” Jaehaerys refuted “he disinherited Rhae-“

“Aegon” Arthur interrupted. “He disinherited Aegon. He never disinherited Rhaegar, and the seven know he made many threats to do so. He named Viserys his heir but that’s the exception. The loophole, Jaehaerys. Aerys could not disinherit you as he had no knowledge of you.”

“I’m still a bastard” he replied stubbornly. “I’m not Jaehaerys Targaryen. I’m not even Jon Targaryen. I’m Jon Snow.”

“A lie” Arthur replied softly but assuredly. “The High Septon, Maynard, wed your father and mother in a secret ceremony in Dorne. That’s partially why I fled with you. If I had stayed, there would be small chance that I have perished and there would be no accounts to your legitimacy.”

“No! Rhaegar was married to Elia.”

Arthur squeezed Jaehaerys’ shoulder.

“Your _father_ , Jaehaerys. Your father was married to Elia. And he took another wife. It is true that the seven only accepted polygamous marriages because the Targaryens had their Dragons, but eventually the Targaryens decided to play nice and only married once. In truth, the Targaryens had stopped practicing polygamy by their own volition, far earlier before the dragons left this world. In truth, the seven never officially outlawed it in terms of the Targaryens. Your ancestors just chose not to do it…until Rhaegar. People have this unfound assumption that the Targaryens stopped doing what they pleased when the dragons became extinct, but if that were the case then the faith would have put a stop to their marriages between brother and sister. After all, the faith’s rebellion was founded on their abhorrence for polygamy and incest. A conveniently neglected recollection. On your reads of Targaryen history, I’m sure you read about the Doctrine of Exceptionalism?”

Jaehaerys stared at him before giving a humorless and dark chuckle.

“What?” Arthur looked at him in worry. Jaehaerys merely shook his head.

“I just realized, all those books you bought me. Hardly any were appropriate for my age. I should have been reading about knights and their adventures. Slaying beasts and winning the hearts of beautiful maidens. Instead, you manipulated my literature. Everything you ever gifted me were tales of Valyria, the Targaryens or about leadership and warfare. All my “feats” have been from what I’ve read of other men. All their good deeds.”

“There’s no shame in taking inspiration from others. All the best leaders were educated and learned from their predecessors mistakes” Arthur told him.

But Jaehaerys forcefully shoved his hand off his shoulder.

“It was all a lie! It was all your manipulations. You told me you saw potential inside me, but that was just another lie, wasn’t it? You didn’t see anything in me, you forced it onto me. Just like you forced my marriage. Don’t deny it. You might as well have twisted my arm when you guilted me with what could happen if Daenerys had married Khal Drogo.”

Arthur began to tire of his complaining.

“Alright! You’re right, I did force it on you. Your marriage? That was all you. I knew there would be contention to your claim, even with the documents of your father’s marriage to your mother. That’s why I convinced you and I just gave you a little nudge. I didn’t force you to do anything. But you should be proud that her feelings came into consideration. Because you’re a good young man. You’re the man that Sevanna and I raised you to be.” Arthur grabbed Jaehaerys’ shoulder once more as he looked into his conflicted eyes. “Remember what I told you. No matter what you know about yourself now, you’re still the young man you were today and yesterday. You’re a good person and a great leader. The seven realms could do no better.”

Jaehaerys looked down with a hardened gaze, but Arthur could see the tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Arthur didn’t deem the moment appropriate to try and console or comfort him in any way, so he merely let his king process the information on his own. After a while, Jaehaerys’ eyes turned once more onto the weapon in Arthur’s hand.

“So, that’s Blackfyre? Truly?”

“Yes” Arthur affirmed. He removed his hand from Jaehaerys’ shoulder to offer it to his king with both hands. Jaehaerys took the sword by the handle without hesitation. Arthur took a step back and smiled as he observed Jaehaerys marvel at the Valyrian steel blade in his hand. However, it was only when Jaehaerys slightly tilted that blade that Arthur had to stifle a gasp and try to control the racing of his heart. The light from the moon had bounced off the blade and had reflected into the eyes of Jaehaerys, making his dark grey orbs look silver. The same silver that his mother possessed. Jaehaerys was completely oblivious to this fact as he tested the swords weight and mockingly swung it around.

“Where did you find it” he finally asked.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“When I took command of the company all those years ago. Do you remember Harry Strickland?”

Jaehaerys shook his head.

“Of course not, he was rather reclusive. A captain of the company but mainly kept to himself. I believe he would have bid a place for command had I not staked my own claim. I bested the previous commander in combat and won the right, as you know. Well, years later when I proclaimed to company for you, Strickland was amongst one of many captains to contest the decision. He stupidly challenged me for leadership, and he fell within half a minute to my sword.”

“I thought it was ten seconds?”

Arthur pondered it with pursed lips.

“Hm, actually it may have been around five seconds. I can’t remember. It was really a blur.”

Jaehaerys rolled his eyes.

“Either way, it isn’t important. Anyways, as I slew him, I had the right to his possessions and belongings within the camp. Color my surprise when I found this beautiful sword in his chest. I haven’t the faintest clue as to why he never recognized it. For all he knew, there was no real Valyrian in a position of power to claim the sword. Or perhaps he feared that they would try to rob him of the weapon and only deemed himself worthy enough to wield it if he took leadership of the company. It was good fortune that he had it, as it only further solidifies your claim if you wield this sword into battle.”

He pointed towards Blackfyre.

“That is a king’s weapon, Jaehaerys. Aegon wielded when he took control of Westeros. Daemon Blackfyre, for all his flaws, was an able combatant and a worthy swordsman. If not for Bloodraven’s craven attack with a volley of arrows, perhaps the Blackfyre rebellion would have been successful.”

Jaehaerys nodded before turning to Arthur with a fiery gaze. He recognized that look from when Rhaegar would refuse to relent in his side of a debate.

“Arthur, all this information is much more than I can handle all at once. Truly, were it not for the alignment of the pieces, I would disregard this entire tale of myself as a “secret Targaryen” as mere fantasy. However, I’m no fool. There are no coincidences in this world. Everything seems to align itself for one reason or another. But. I can’t promise to you that I’ll take control of the Iron Throne.”

Arthur made to comment but he was silenced by a raised hand.

“I do not believe Viserys as wise enough to be in control of a kingdom, but even the most mediocre of men can turn into truehearted with the right advisors to guide them. Furthermore, this “Jaehaerys” nonsense.” He turned to Arthur with even more fire in his eyes before. “Stop that. I am Jon. Perhaps not Jon Snow, but Jon nonetheless. If what you say about my legitimacy is true, then I shall refer to myself as Jon Targaryen. It’s who I was raised to be.”

“Are you sure” Arthur asked him. “it was your mother’s only gift to you before she parted from this world.”

The Valyrian weapon wielder looked conflicted at that information but only for a short instant.

“Then I shall not disrespect her memory and her gift and take reign of the name she gifted me. However, I will also not throw away the identity I have always known. Jaehaerys “Jon” Targaryen. I believe that name suitable for me.”

Arthur eventually nodded. He did not want to disrespect Lyanna’s final gift but could not find himself in trying to change the alias he grew up with either. It’s what the world knew him as. When Jaehaerys had defeated Khal Ramo in Norvos, they did not sing of “Jaehaerys Targaryen, Third of His Name” but rather “Jon Snow, Commander of the Golden Company”.

“Very well, your grace. Until you seat the Iron Throne, I shall refer to you as “Jon”.”

“If I take the Iron Throne” Jon corrected.

“Of course.”

“And lastly” Jon said with a deep breath. “This sword. You were correct. Daemon Blackfyre sullied this sword’s name when he rebelled against his family, just as Brynden Rivers sullied Dark Sister by murdering Aenys Blackfyre under a banner of peace. It must be reborn. I do not know when, but, when the time comes, a new sword will be reborn from a fallen legacy.”

Arthur stood conflicted. Blackfyre was once the pride of House Targaryen, but Jon’s logic had been sound. Many in the seven kingdoms associated the weapon with the rebellion of the Blackfyre against their kin. It only furthered the prejudice that a bastard was never satisfied with what they had. Eventually, he nodded.

“Of course, your grace. A wise decision.”

“Now, accompany me on the ride back Ser Arthur. I believe I’m rather tired from the day’s events.”

“Of course, your grace.”

“I’m not a damn prince yet.”

“Commander, then.”

“If it suits you, Ser Arthur. Say. This sword didn’t happen to have a scabbard, did it?”

Arthur shook his head.

“No, commander, when I took it from Strickland it did not have a scabbard to hold it. That is mainly as to why I had to wrap it so in leather and cloth.”

Jon nodded.

They mounted their respective horses and rode in silence back to the camp.

**Later**

Company Camp

Both men rode slowly into the camp and hitched their horses to their respective posts. With a nod towards one another, Arthur made his way to the tent he shared with Sevanna and Jon made his way to the tent he shared with Daenerys.

It was almost pathetic, the way that Jon trudged his feet along the ground as he neared the entrance flap. The moment he crossed the threshold into his tent, Jon began to unbuckle his belt and pulled at the strings that held his trousers. By the time he entered the sectioned off tent where he slept, Jon had already stripped himself of his leather jerkin. He shook his dark curls, almost expecting to feel some sort of relief for the headache he was beginning to feel. Jon opened his eyes and noticed the still figure of his wife as she lay on her side of the bed. Her breathing seemed regular for a person in deep slumber, so he didn’t think much of it and opted to gently burrow himself into the sheets.

What a stressful day, he thought as he let his head rest against the pillows. He had to endure almost the entirety of it with Asher. Jon appreciated his friend, he did, but sometimes Asher had the tendency of grating himself on one’s nerves. Jon also could not really complain, truth be told. Asher always had been the same one that Jon had met all those years ago. Jon knew what he was getting himself into when he named Asher as his Captain-Legate. Sometimes Jon wondered if he made the right choice in making the exiled northerner third in command. Jon wondered if Asher’s family knew what he was doing. If they would be proud of Asher after knowing what their exiled family had managed to make of himself. From what he remembered, from Asher’s mouth himself, Asher’s father had exiled him with great disappointment and a cold and hardened gaze. Asher said that his mother did not weep tears for him as he was forced to ride through the gates of Ironrath and towards White Harbor. His brother, Rodrik, looked with somewhat saddened eyes but never tried to sway their father in a different mindset. It seemed that only his younger siblings expressed their feelings as their brother was forced away. Jon couldn’t remember their names. He remembered Ethan. Asher said that he had beaten a farm boy who had been bullying his brother. That was the start of his downfall, according to Asher. The other two were a haze. He had another younger brother and a younger sister. The girl, was it Talisa? Talena? Talia? Talia, that was it. As for the boy, Jon could’ve sworn it was Ryon. Jon thought that he had made the mental note that it sounded like riot, but he could be mistaken. Jon would simply ask Asher the next time they spoke. Jon loved hearing about Asher’s northern family from “back home”.

Family. That’s what led to Jon’s main stress. To be bombarded with such information. All his life he had been plagued with the constant thought of who his parents were. He mainly cared for the identity of his mother seeing as Arthur was always vague with the identity of his father. “He was a good friend of mine” was usually the only answer Jon received when he asked about the subject. Rhaegar Targaryen. “The Last Dragon”. Heir to the Iron Throne. The pride of the Targaryen name during his time. Slain by Robert Baratheon at the Trident. The “most beautiful man” to ever walk the seven kingdoms. At least, that’s what the maidens accounts were in the texts. And he was his father. It was almost laughable. Jon was known as “Jon Snow” for the entirety of his sixteen years in Essos. A bastard with no name and seemingly no blood of worth. Except that he was a secret Targaryen. Not just a secret Targaryen, but the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He had to fight back a snort, that would likely wake his wife, as he was certain these types of situations were solely for the works of fiction. A nobody is actually a somebody. That was the joke, in his opinion. Perhaps his sense of humor was twisted, but he found it amusing that he just so happened to be the son of not only the crown prince, but of the daughter of one of the noble houses in Westeros. Lyanna Stark. His mother. Not only was his mother of the north, but she was also the best possible maiden available in that part of the realm. “Available” being the loose term. She seemed to be worthy enough to start a rebellion. On Robert Baratheon’s end, at least. His uncle rebelled for the wrongful deaths of his brother and father. Damn. Those were his uncle and grandfather that were murdered. If that wasn’t enough to think about for a night, then the fact that his uncle and grandfather were murdered by his other grandfather would surely be the final nail in the coffin for his night of rest.

Jon shook his head as he willed those thoughts away. Instead focusing on his mother and father. Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. Stark and Targaryen. The Starks who prided themselves with the magic of ice in their veins while the Targaryens prided themselves with the blood of Old Valyria. Blood that could tame the fire breathing beasts that brought the kingdom to heel. Perhaps the entire world, before the doom. Ice and Fire. Fire and Ice. Gods, it was almost a sort of written story. It seemed as if the circumstances of his birth were preplanned from the beginning. Though, he supposed it was if the Gods were real. Jon didn’t know if he believed in any of them, though if he did then he would like to place his faith with the Old Gods of the north. Jon thought himself a northerner. He currently had the last name to show it and, if Ser Marlon was to be believed, the Stark looks to prove it. What a joke. All that was left was for Jon to be involved in some sort of prophecy and he would lose it. He would accept that perhaps he wasn’t in control of his life and some higher power of sorts was pulling all the strings that affected him, somewhere far away. It truly was a stressful day if such negative thoughts were plaguing him as he tried to sleep.

Trying to fight for his slumber, Jon thought it would be beneficial to switch tactics and think of the positives instead. Viserys would not travel with them on the way to Myr. That was possibly the best start to his day that Jon could ever ask for. He did not know if he could deal with the man’s arrogance for a damn month. He was so caught up with disdain for Viserys that Jon nearly forgot that they were related by way of uncle and nephew. Which meant that his wife was his aunt.

Far better than if she was his secret sister. A nobleman marrying their aunt or uncle was not uncommon in Westeros. The Starks actually possessed an uncle and niece marriage through Jonnel Stark and Sansa Stark. Though, even if Jon and Daenerys were related as siblings it would matter as they were both Targaryens and were subject to the ‘Doctrine of Exceptionalism’. That was it. If Jon was skeptical of omnipotent interference, it was gone now. Everything in his life was now starting to fall so perfectly in place. There must be some God out there laughing at his turn of events. Jon almost expected the sword of disillusionment to strike him at any time now. Subjectively thinking about swords, his mind wandered to Blackfyre. Suddenly Jon sat up from his lying position and walked quickly to the adjoining tent where the entrance was. In his haste to sleep, Jon had subconsciously thrown Blackfyre, in its leather and cloth wrappings, to the floor as his strapped belt soon followed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the sword still laid on the floor where he dropped it. Jon mentally kicked himself for treating such a priceless gift so poorly. Jon grabbed his strapped sword and placed it upright against one of the posts that held the tent up for an easy grab as he left in the morning. Turning his attention to the Valyrian object, Jon gently unwrapped the bindings to take one last glimpse at the beautifully darkened and rippled metal. Walking back into his sleeping tent, Jon walked to the chest at the end of the table to place the sword within. He would have a common scabbard made for it until he could properly have one crafted by a master smith. Possibly in Myr or Tyrosh. Jon did not notice his groggy wife sitting up until he closed the lid of the chest.

Jon stood up to make his way back to his side when he finally noticed his now awake wife. Sharp grey eyes met with soft yet curious violet ones.

“Daenerys” he said finally. “Did I wake you?”

She rubbed her left eye as she fought a yawn before nodding her head.

“My apologies, princess. It was not my intention to disturb your rest.”

She shook her head.

“That’s quite alright. I drift back into sleep quite easily, commander.”

He nodded. It was awkward to avoid her gaze, even for an instant, as he slowly made his way to the side of his bed. It was even more wracking as he could make out her eyes following him the entire way from his peripheral vision. When he covered himself with the sheets once more, he laid directly on his back and staring at the ceiling to avoid any eye contact with the woman beside him.

She stayed seated for a few moments but, when it was clear that he would not make any attempt at conversation, she lied back down on her side and facing away from him. Jon let out a deep breath. He probably should say something.

“Did you like your gifts?”

He could feel her breath pause from the slight movements in the bed. Jon waited with a held breath of his own. He truly wanted to know what her thoughts were on his gifts. His anxiety grew as the silence lengthened between them. When it felt like the cold feeling would consume his entire soul, she spoke.

“They were beautiful” she whispered. Jon felt warmth overtake the cold feeling, but his heart kept its rapid pace. “The flowers were truly breathtaking, commander Snow. I’m especially fond of the winter rose you picked for its centerpiece.”

Jon nodded to himself with a small smile. “I’m glad to hear it, princess.” His small was replaced by a frown as he readied another question. “And the books?”

This time, he felt here move slightly.

“They are wonderful dear husband of mine. I must confess that despite holding the Targaryen name, I know little to nothing about my family’s history or the history of Old Valyria. I thank you for the knowledge you have gifted me. Truly.”

Jon gave a small smile. “That gladdens me.”

Jon closed his eyes to let the silence between them grow once more as he felt sleep begin to overtake him. Just as his body begain to float into the world of dreams, he was interrupted from his course there.

“Husband?”

Jon opened his eyes to look over to his wife. She was slightly angled towards him as she craned her head to meet his gaze.

“Yes?”

She looked at him with her large violet eyes in dissonance. His wife seemed to be at an internal struggle, she seemed to want to say something to him but could not will herself to release the words. Finally, she turned her body to face him fully as she looked into his curious eyes with her determined violets.

“Will you sleep with your arms around me?”

…

That surely wasn’t a question he had been expecting. Still, it wasn’t an unwelcome one. A welcome question that still caught him off guard, however, as he lied there for a few seconds before answering. Jon rolled onto his side, facing his wife as he continued to look into her eyes.

“Aye. I’ll hold you” he said softly.

She nodded, relief shining in her eyes as she rolled over to allow him the chance to wrap his right arm around her waist to pull her close. What a strange few days it had been. Just two days past, Jon had been reluctant to enter this marriage in the first place. Then the next day he had proclaimed to protect her from any harm as they both lay together in their bed to sleep. And now, Jon found himself wanting to please the woman currently in his arms. He thought romance was only meant for those in the books and stories and the common folk. Not for people forced or swayed into an arranged marriage. Maybe the woman currently in his arms was simply special.

“Good night husband” she whispered.

“Good night wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been almost two months and that the chapter isn't as long as the other two but I wholeheartedly believe that this chapter is better than the other two.


	4. Mobilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time to move is now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You already know fam, chapter first then I'll edit a bit later.
> 
> A month wait but still faster than two months, am I right?

**299 AC – Morning After**

Jon and Daenerys’ Tent

Jon prided himself in being a light sleeper. Surprise attacks from other mercenary bands tended to instill lightness in one. However, given the toil and vast amount of information that he had received the previous day, Jon thought he deserved himself a bit of rest. During his long period of slumber, Jon had woken up a few times and had suspected a bug to have crawled on his face as he had felt a tingling sensation on his lips during one of his “awakenings”. It didn’t bother Jon in the slightest, even as he had more time to ponder it when his lethargy finally left him. Stretching out as he sat up from his bed, he realized that he was very much alone in his bed. Not strange initially, he had spent far much more time sleeping alone than with a companion as of late. Well, his wife in all technicality. However, it was the general idea that he was the last to wake up that took him by surprise. The first night he lay asleep with Daenerys, she had looked very much in deepness as he awoke. Yet, today it seemed that she had him beat. He reached out with his hand to feel the cold fabric beneath his palm. She had him beat by quite a while it seemed.

Taking one last stretch, Jon rose from the bed to get dressed. Walking out of his tent and into the bright light was an unfamiliar concept to him, holding out a hand to block out the blinding of it. A few of the knights and squires turned to him as the gave a slight bow or salute as he passed by them towards the water bucket by the hitching posts for their horses. He made sure to return each gesture with a nod of his own, or at least as many as he could. Scooping up water into his hands, he splashed it on his face and waited with steady breaths to allow full awareness to overtake him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you got piss drunk last night.”

Jon turned a lazed gaze behind him and noticed the cheeky and swaggered walk of Asher Forrester coming close to him.

“Tut tut, Commander. What will our esteemed band of anointed knights think of their leader as they find out he slept late into the morning?”

“Piss off, Asher.”

Though the remark was said with a small smile.

“I’m afraid, commander, that I take my duties rather seriously. You won’t find myself with a bottle in hand as I make myself to sleep. Well, not at least without a woman in hand.”

Jon gave Asher a mocking glance.

“But Asher. What would your dear Gwyn Whitehill say?”

A dark look overcame his friends face.”

“Fuck off, Snow.”

Jon merely laughed as he scooped another handful of water to splash on his upper torso.

“So,” Asher continued “that princess spread her legs yet?”

Asher grabbed an apple from the bucket used to feed the horses and took a satisfying bite from the red fruit. Jon only snorted in response.

“What? She an ingrate? Didn’t like your gifts yesterday?”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised at the serious look that the blonde man was giving him. For an entire day, Asher had sold him a lie of being a chivalrous man when it came to women.

“You know Asher, I could’ve sworn you told me not to expect anything from the gifts I would give Daenerys. That “no means no”. Was that just some lie you say to make yourself sound good around other people? Don’t bother answering Asher. I think I know the answer already.”

Asher clicked his tongue in a mocking gesture, sending bits of small apple chunks into the air.

“You expect too much of me, Jon. You know my nature already. Anyways, as it happens I wasn’t lying to you…completely.”

Jon gave another snort.

“No does mean no. There’s nothing more dishonorable for a man than to use his strength to his advantage against women for pleasure. On the basis of expecting a favor in return for a gift? Then, perhaps it’s just that it always seems to work for me. In truth I was merely boosting your confidence. I knew you were the sort to be hesitant of trying to “woo” your woman.”

“How do you sleep at night Asher?”

“Usually alone. But that’s not the topic at hand”

Jon gave a loud laugh, drawing an interrupted chuckle from Asher and a few stares from the camp servants and knights around them.

“The point” Asher continued “, the point is. We need to find a way for that wife of yours to cozy up in bed to you. You know, the men around this camp say “to unlock a happy marriage is with a happy fuck”.”

Jon gave an annoyed look.

“And just how many of these conversations of a “happy marriage” are in reference to my recent own?” Jon asked.

“You really want to know?”

“It just so happens that I really don’t, but I do hope that you took the liberty of straightening the men out of their vulgar language in reference to me and my wife.”

“Why would I?” Asher asked in genuine surprise with his arms spread out and a light shrug. “It just so happens that I am in agreement with the men in the camp.”

“Your decadence for the improperness never fails to surprise me, Asher” Jon said with a serious tone.

“Thank you, Jon” Asher chirped. “Though I have to admit that I don’t know what decadence means.”

“It means the self-indulgence of luxury” Jon replied.

Asher gave him a confused look.

“Is…this some sort of fancy manner of speaking? I have to admit that I don’t see the correlation in your statement.”

“Disappointing but not a surprise. You always did shy away from books and their wealth of knowledge. You should really learn to pick up a tome once in a while. You’d be surprised in the usefulness of their contents.”

“Like?”

“Like my famed battle against “The Great Khal Ramo” at the gates of Norvos. Took almost an exact replica from one of the battles in the “Successful Sieges of Westeros” by Archmaester Arthur Colan Dale.”

“That was his name?” Asher asked with a humored face.

“Yes” Jon replied, making away from the water bucket and towards the inner camp. Asher followed him with an equal step.

Asher took another bite, waving and nodding towards the respectful salutes they were given, and spoke with a mouthful towards his friend.

“Strange name, isn’t it? Arthur Colan Dale. Not a common one that you hear throughout the world. Even here in Essos.”

Jon gave an annoyed look to his friend. Sometimes Asher gave information and advice that Jon valued from time to time, but that’s also what made it toilsome on the brain. How such sound advice could come from a complete idiot.

“It’s not his name that interests me so, but the information that he’s poured into his books. You should be worshiping the man’s name Arthur, he saved us after all.”

“Said it yourself, Ramo was an idiot that kept charging at us with the landscape to our advantage.”

“And where do you think I got the idea to use the landscape to our advantage? Not the multitude of battles on the open fields prior to that day.”

Asher snorted.

“You mean to tell me that it took some book for you to get the idea to use the higher ground for our archers? Maybe you’re not as smart as you look. I thought it’d be common sense to use any area not reachable by the enemy to lay waste.”

Jon laughed.

“An interesting turn of events, Asher. Talking about my overrated knowledge. Weren’t you going to show me how to take my wife to bed.”

Jon took on a smirk as Asher’s face paled, the people around them giving the duo strange looks.

“What?” Asher said with a louder than necessary voice. “I never said anything like that.”

It looked more like he was trying to reassure himself rather than anyone else in the camp.

“Alright Snow. But this conversation isn’t over” he hissed.

Jon only shrugged as he walked away.

-

“Are you going to tell me what you and Starsword talked about?”

If it hadn’t been clear how much of an annoyance could be at times, then this was the final proof. Asher never did learn to be patient or give people their space when he wanted something from them. As to the nickname. That was Asher’s mockery towards Arthur. Really, it was a surprise as to how Asher was still alive after all this time.

“Aye, I will. Just wait.”

“But I’ve waited since the morning!” he whined. “And you’ve been asleep this entire time.”

“You really are an oversized child at times, Asher” Jon replied with a roll of his eyes. “Actually, make yourself useful a bit and tell me how long I’ve been out.”

Asher merely scowled at Jon’s comments before answering with an offside view.

“Well, I’ve been awake since daybreak. Starsword woke up a little earlier, as usual. Sevanna woke up a little whiles after me and that wife of yours a little while after her. If I was a betting man, which I am, I’d say we’re about two hours off of noon. Maybe less.”

Jon nodded. He had been out for a long time.

“Asher” he said with authority, gathering the attention of the man beside him. “Gather the captains and meet me in my tent as soon as possible. While you’re at it, tell the captains to tell their underlings to prepare for make way. I want to start marching towards Myr by noon or damn well near it. Once you get that done, come find me and I’ll tell you everything.”

Asher looked at him from his far off glance.

“By noon? That’ll be a stretch given that the elephants are still somewhat lazing about. Lazarus will have to either be cut out from the meeting or rush as soon as the meeting is over to get them moving. You know how he’s the only one those animals really listen to.”

Jon nodded.

“And, we’ll have to hope that your parents and that wife of yours make it back in time.”

Jon stopped. He turned to Asher with a questioning stare.

“What do you mean “back in time”? Where are they?”

Asher stopped in his footsteps to turn to him.

“They went into the city a while after your wife woke up. She said she wanted to see it one last time and had something to do. That’s what I heard, at least. Sevanna offered to accompany her and Arthur offered to join them since he didn’t want them to go unprotected. Plus, he had a raven to send.”

“Yeah, you told me that earlier. A raven…do you know where to?”

“I don’t know. Probably some family back home” Asher shrugged.

“Yeah… you’re probably right. He’s been meaning to talk to his sister since our last contract back in Qohor.” Jon knew that Arthur loved his sister more than anything at one point of his life and that it probably burned him to leave her behind to come to Essos with Jon. It made his dedication and sacrifice to raise Jon all that much more valuable. Now, Arthur had fallen in love with Sevanna and would go to the ends of the Earth for her but that was a story for another time. Jon needed to focus on the now. “Irrelevant. I’m sure that Arthur will have them back as soon as we make way. He’s always had the ability to show at the most opportune of moments. Gather the captains and make sure we move ahead of schedule.”

Asher nodded his response as he paused in his step to go and give commands.

Jon only walked back towards his tent.

Jon’s Military Tent

By the time Asher made his way back towards Jon, he had informed him that the captains were ordering the lieutenants to tidy their stations as they ordered their hierarchy of men to prepare for march.

“So, you going to tell me what went down last night?”

Asher stood against a barrel in the corner of the tent, leaning slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jon never understood how a barrel always seemed to make its way into the tent, though he suspected it was Asher’s doing. Asher always did his utmost to look suave in any situation. It was in these moments that Jon could differentiate the differences and similarities between himself and the northerner. All his life, Jon had tried to imitate the northern way but could never seem to fully grasp it. Asher was brash, brazen and burly. Jon was pragmatic, reclusive and lithe. Jon had learned just the day past that his “Stark”-like look, as Ser Marlon would say, came from his mother. Yet, when pitted next to the two northerners Jon kept close, it was plain to see that one of them did not belong. The one being himself. Asher was a true rogue, a swashbuckler in all but career. Wherever he went, women swooned and fell to his feet. Jon wondered if Daenerys’ type was a man like Asher. Even Ser Marlon was handsome in his own way. No young maiden would turn liquid in his presence, but Jon noticed the more mature and esteemed women sneaking him looks as he passed by the streets.

Jon? He was pretty. There was no two ways about it. He didn’t have the rough and shaggy beard of Ser Marlon or the rogue trimmed one of Asher. He barely had any stubble growing in place. Jon didn’t know how many times he’d heard his men remarking of his smooth and childlike face. The only mark to ruin his perfection was the scar he had received six moons past in a battle against the second sons. It ended in a resounding victory for the Golden Company but the sons had managed to flee with most of their numbers in tact. No company every stayed long on the battlefield against them. How boring had life become for them. Now, cities would hire multiple bands of mercenaries in the hopes of boosting their morale against the company, should Jon ever decide to take a contract against them. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise that Jon felt a sort of relief with this plan to invade Westeros. He may have grown weary from battle, but it’s what he knew best. He had grown up as a fighter and now lead a company of them. That was a similarity he had with Asher. Both men grew up fighters and were natural born leaders. And in their similarities is what also bore their differences. Jon detested battle, Asher thrived for it.

As much as it burned Sevanna, it’s what made Asher a good man to lead the company in the case that he and Arthur were unavailable. Truth be told, Arthur wasn’t all that much of a leader. Perhaps he would inspire a small group of men, but that’s where Arthur’s talents in leadership ended. A small task force? Fine. An entire squadron of men? Asher was the better option.

Still, perhaps all Jon’s faults and virtues were due to his nature. Rhaegar Targaryen was a charismatic leader after all. Whereas the Starks preferred their solitude. Maybe that’s where Jon received his blend of qualities. A leader that didn’t go out of his way to inspire. Then again, Lyanna Stark was a supposed spitfire in her family. Jon dwelled out of his thoughts to pour himself a goblet of wine.

“Tell me Asher. Do you believe in destiny?”

Asher raised a brow at him.

“I’m serious. Do you believe our lives are determined by a secret thread of fate?”

Jon downed the entire goblet of wine, wincing at the bitterness and sweetness of the drink. Asher only pushed himself off of the barrel to take a seat at Jon’s left side. Jon poured himself another round while giving Asher his first, all while Jon looked at his friend, waiting for an answer.

Asher reached over to take the goblet with one hand, swirling it as he took a small sip.

“I don’t rightly know” he admitted. “I think I’m of the mind that doesn’t have a right answer for a question like that. I’d like to believe that destiny is an excuse of the entitled, giving them more purpose to pursue what they believe is rightfully theirs. Then again, destiny doesn’t always favor one, if it is real that is.”

Asher downed his goblet, no grimace present on his face whatsoever.

“If destiny is real” he continued “then it has determined that I would sit in this seat this very moment with you. We’ve been friends for how long, now? Two years? Did fate decide that? Did fate also decide to kick me out of my home for falling in love with the wrong woman? If destiny is real, then it has given me as much as it has taken. I’ll get back to you with a final answer.”

Both friends sat in the silent tent as they awaited the rest of the captains to arrive, drinking to let the time waste by.

Jon stared at Asher’s forlorn face and wondered if his friend was still caught on his Gwyn Whitehill. A tragic tale for any maiden to weep at. Two individuals from separate families, families that were enemies from the founding of their houses. A forbidden romance that resulted in the banishment of a son from his home. Almost like Jon.

“Who do I like?”

Asher looked at him before giving a lazy shrug.

“I don’t know. Jon Snow I guess” he responded.

Jon only laughed at that.

“Do I look like Eddard Stark to you?”

Asher narrowed his eyes for a split second before shaking his head.

“Maybe, I guess. I never met the man. Father never took me on his visits to Winterfell, and Lord Stark never had any business down at Ironrath. Though, he was part of the reason why I was exiled. You’ll have to ask Marlon about that, he certainly seems to think you do.”

Jon rolled his goblet in his fingers before setting it down.

“My mother was Lyanna Stark. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Jon sat back in his chair as he watched the information pan over his friend’s face. Or rather…tried to. Asher’s face gave no indication whatsoever. He merely stared back at him with a blank stare.

“I’m sorry. What?” Asher finally managed out.

Jon leaned in until his grey eyes became clouds of smoke in front of Asher’s green ones.

“I said. I’m the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen” Jon whispered.

Asher recoiled back, but not in fear or disgust. Merely in disbelief.

“Are…are you sure?”

Jon nodded.

“Shit. That’s…. Shit. That’s why Marlon thinks you look like Lord Stark. You’re the son of her sister.” Jon nodded again. “And Arthur. Seven hells, no wonder he follows you around and protects you. Even when the other Targaryens were alive. You’re the son of a prince. _You are_ a prince. Shit! You’re the heir to the Seven King-mrmph”

 Jon had clamped a hand over Asher’s mouth as he made placed a finger over his lips.

“Quiet, Asher. There are ears everywhere. I don’t know how many people know about this but I’d prefer to keep it as few as possible.”

Asher nodded with wide eyes until Jon slowly released his hand from his face.

“You’re the heir to the Seven Kingdoms” Asher finished with a whisper.

Jon shook his head.

“I don’t care about that. I don’t care much for ruling. I’m going to fight this war for Viserys, because that’s what I agreed to do. After that…who knows.”

“What? But you’ve seen that insane cunt. You really think he’ll protect the Kingdoms well?”

“I couldn’t give two shits about the kingdom and who’s ruling it. I’m a mercenary. I live by traveling from place to place and getting hired to take care of people’s problems.”

“But you can’t live that way forever, Snow. Or, Targaryen. Whatever you go by now.”

“I go by Jon.”

“Whatever. My point is that you can’t solve every solution with a blade. There will be a time when you’re too old to swing it. And what then?”

Asher leaned over the table.

“Listen” he continued “you’re not perfect. No one is. But you’re the best I’ve seen. And I know that doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I mean it. You have a wife now and eventually children. And they’ll have children of their own. Isn’t it your duty as a father and husband to provide the best you possibly can for-..”

Asher paused.

“What?” Jon questioned with a furrowed brow.

“I just realized your wife is your aunt…”

Jon stared at his friend for a few seconds before falling back into his chair and laughing. Asher turned to him with a frantic stare.

“Hey! Why are you laughing? This is serious. She’s your aunt, Jon. Oh gods. Now you can’t lay with her.”

“Too late for that, Asher” Jon replied, a few chuckles coming in between words.

“What?! You fucked your aunt? How? You said you two didn’t do anything. And it’s only been three days. You knew since last night!”

Jon winced as Asher got louder and louder.

“Asher! I’m right here. And no, I didn’t take my aunt to bed. I _have_ however, lain with her as we sleep at night. We share the same tent after all.”

Relief spread over the exiled Forrester’s face as he fell back with closed eyes.

“That’s good, Jon. Really good.”

“Why is it a bad thing to seduce my wife?”

Asher opened a single eye in disbelief.

“Because that’s your aunt, you daft cunt.”

“Aye. And what of it? I’m a Targaryen, Asher. And a Stark.” Jon said the last name with emphasis, but Asher was still confused.

“The Great Houses get more luxury in terms of union than others. Just the Targaryen name alone would give me the opportunity to wed my aunt without scrutiny, but it’s not unheard of in other Great Houses. House Stark did the bloody same way back then when their lineage was on the brink of extinction. It just so happens that there are only three Targaryens left in this world.”

Realization dawned on Asher’s face before he turned a skeptic eye towards Jon.

“You’re not just saying this because your wife happens to be one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen and are desperate to get between her legs, are you?”

Jon scowled at him.

“Do you always talk this way about women directly to their husband’s face?”

“Can’t say. Usually the women I speak of aren’t their husband’s aunt” Asher retorted.

Jon rolled his eyes as he stretched his neck.

“What business I have with my wife is mine alone, Asher. Leave her alone.”

Asher raised his hands in surrender at Jon’s tone of finality.

Both men simply waited for the rest of the captains to arrive as they finished the pitcher of wine in silence.

Later

“How many of you knew of this?”

Jon was curious to know how many individuals were aware and privy to the information and he also knew who were unaware as well. However, it was good to get confirmation directly.

As expected, Marlon, Rakharo, Nithral and Lagras stayed silent. Asher would have been with that band as well had Jon not deigned to inform him earlier. Balaq and Lysono were the only two to be aware as they nodded their heads when they looked at him. They were also in the same mind to try and convince Jon to marry Daenerys.

“We have been aware of your true heritage since Arthur took control of the company all those years ago” Lysono said in an almost cryptic like manner.

Balaq nodded his assent.

Jon looked at both of his captains before speaking.

“Who else knows of this information?”

Balaq turned to Lysono in what seemed, to Jon atleast, a lack of knowledge. Lysono pondered the information a bit with his calculating eyes before turning his attention back to his commander.

“Very few. As far as I am aware of, all the other captains and their serjeants of the time have perished. Though…” he trailed off.

“Though?” Jon questioned.

“There is one man that knows. He was Harry Strickland’s squire for a short while. The call him Rolly. A skilled young man with his blade. I believe he’s a blacksmith’s son from The Reach.”

“Rolly? I have never heard of him” Jon muttered to himself.

“He fled after Ser Arthur slew Harry Strickland in combat. Last I heard of him, he fought with the Second Sons. Though his appearance has changed in time, I am sure you shall peg him by the shock of flame hair he wears.”

Jon nodded at the information.

“Very well then” he said, “let us get onto the matter at hand. As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, given the movement, I wish to leave for Myr as soon as possible to complete our contract.”

“What for?” Marlon questioned. “We thought you might wish to stay a bit longer until your wife settled in around us. Has Myr really pressed us for time by that much?”

“Surprisingly not. Despite wasting our time here to be called by the prince of Pentos, only to inform us of our contract all the way in Myr, the contract stated that we had a moon’s time to arrive. However, recent knowledge and a change in plans has affected our schedule.”

“Such as?” Lysono inquired with a curious gaze.

“Such that “King Viserys” has deemed it notable for us to set off towards Tyrosh in due haste. He plans to secure a loan from the Iron Bank before meeting us in Tyrosh for our voyage towards Dorne.”

The captains began to talk amongst themselves in whispers. Jon merely sat and observed. For the most part, Asher remained quiet but answered Ser Marlon’s questions with words few and in between. Balaq muttered alongside Lysono while Rakharo conversed in confusion alongside Nithral. Lagras remained quiet with a far-off gaze. It was Balaq that turned to him.

“So, we are to complete the contract first in Myr?”

“Yes. And after that we make for Tyrosh. I suspect Viserys will have secured his loan, _if_ he secures it, by the time we arrive in Myr. Then he should sail with a ship through the Narrow Sea. I suspect he plans to purchase a few ships from the Tyroshi fleet” Jon answered. “Then, a few ships from Dorne should arrive. I will mainly use the Dornish fleet to ferry the war elephants across. Lagras.”

The Ghiscari turned to him.

“I want you to land before the rest of us. Get the elephants accustomed to the land. Have them fed and watered.”

Lagras nodded at Jon’s words.

“Once Lagras makes land” Jon continued “I will land with Viserys. Asher and Arthur will land after us. And the rest of the captains will land with their respective bands.”

Every man in the tent nodded.

“Your wife” Asher said beside him. “At which point will she land?”

Each man turned to him. Jon took a deep breath.

“Daenerys will be ferried alongside Sevanna. Both women will ride with Arthur and Asher and will land after Viserys and I.”

A few of the captains frowned at the information but the majority saw no problem with it. Asher was one of indifference. No doubt Arthur would try to give him hell if he were hear to here it. Perhaps Sevanna as well. Better to try and ignore it or put if off for as long as possible, Jon thought.

As if he was summoned by his thoughts, Arthur practically glided through the tent flaps as he strode over to sit at Jon’s right side. Silence overtook the tent as they saw the Sword of the Morning adjust himself in his seat. Jon noticed that he looked out of breath and slight sheen of sweat covered his forehead. No doubt he made his way over in due haste.

“Arthur” Jon said promptly “so nice of you to join us. We were just discussing our plans before we make way towards Myr.”

Arthur nodded but had a small look of apprehension.

“So soon, commander? I thought you might wait a few days?”

Jon shook his head.

“I have no basis to wait any longer, Arthur. I admit, that my timeline is based on the predictions of how long it should take Viserys to secure his loan, as well as on the prediction that he should travel by sea. Either way, it would make it easier on us to arrive ahead of schedule rather than later.”

Arthur conceded with a short nod of his head.

“Though” Jon continued “I’m curious to know as to where you’ve been.”

Arthur sat straight in his seat.

“I was with your wife and Sevanna, commander. Princess Daenerys wished to see the city one last time and make her peace of gratitude toward Illyrio Mopatis before we left. Sevanna offered to accompany and I did not see it fit to leave them to their own.”

Jon kept staring at him.

“I also found the situation opportune as I had intended to send a raven before we left the city, anyways.”

“So I heard” Jon said softly. “Do you see it worthy to share the contents on to whom you sent the raven to?”

“I do not, commander. At least, not at the moment until I receive a response in return.”

Jon raised a curious brow.

“Then am I correct to assume that the raven you have sent was not towards your sister, Ashara?”

Arthur nodded.

“That is interesting, Ser Arthur. I haven’t the faintest clue as to whom you mean to contact” Jon muttered before clapping his hands on the wooden table, “but that is of little importance right now. I mean to set off and with haste. Arthur, Asher, I trust you two will have little trouble moving the men under your command, but perhaps it will be in benefit of the entire company if you two were to order them to help around the camp. If only to hasten things along.”

Both men nodded.

“Of course, commander.”

“Good” Jon said. “Then this meeting is dismissed.”

All captains rose from their seats as they nodded towards Jon. Asher went along with them and spoke with Ser Marlon along the way. Rakharo and Nithral kept talking amongst themselves while Lysono and Balaq went their separate ways. Lagras walked silently towards his mammoths. Arthur stayed behind.

“So” Jon said as he went over the pitcher with wine, “are you going to tell me to whom you sent that raven to?”

He poured a goblet for himself and Arthur, the latter took the goblet with hesitance before taking a single sip.

“A mutual friend to our cause, I believe?”

“A friend to Viserys?” Jon asked with a raised brow.

“Er…no” Arthur admitted. “This mutual party I believe is loyal to you and only you. Which is why I must urge you to take the throne. It is yours by right.”

Jon waived him off.

“I told you already, ser, I will not take the throne unless I deem it worthy to take. We have many moons, possibly years to see if Viserys is worthy to call himself King. I do not believe the conquer of Westeros will be as easy as most of my captains believe it to be, though the shelter of Dorne is quite fortuitous to our cause.”

Arthur stared at him with sad eyes.

“Rhaegar” he started, but Jon cut him off.

“Was my father, though I hold no obligation to him. He started a war that ruined our House, if what the history books say is true. He had two children and a wife. His obligation was to them and he put them at risk when he decided to name Lyanna Stark his Queen of Love and Beauty in front of the world at Harrenhal. If he had stayed true to his wife, then perhaps Viserys would not be the mad man I saw those few days ago. Daenerys would live happily in the Red Keep with her family, no fear of being wed to a barbarian, perhaps even playing happily with Rhaenys and Aegon. Perhaps even betrothed to Aegon himself. And Rhaegar and Lyanna? Well, Rhaegar would be in line to rule with his children still alive, and my mother would be as well if she had kept herself faithful to her promised hand to Robert Baratheon.”

Jon took a few sips of his wine as he pulled out a book from under the table.

“Your mother…” Arthur trailed off with a sad tone.

“Was just as responsible for the war as my father” Jon picked up. “Yes, yes, Robert Baratheon, the whoremonger with his dozens of bastards. Or was it a single bastard? I forget the details at times. Though, it is quite besides the point if I’m being quite honest. How many marriages were made with an unhappy bride? And unhappy _groom_? Plenty, I believe. Though they happened anyways and with promptitude for the peace and security of the realm. I’m reminded of Maegor and his decision to set aside his wife, Ceryse Hightower, for Alys Harroway on the basis that Ceryse could give him no heirs. Perhaps one can side with Maegor, heirs are an expected outcome in a marriage. But what did he accomplish? In the end, what was his reward? He married Alys Harroway, and half the continent’s women, and received nothing. No heirs. Perhaps it was his see that was the problem. And yet…it was through Maegor’s actions that led to the eventual Doctrine of Exceptionalism. The same doctrine that gives me the right to marry my aunt. Though, it is not unheard of in other houses. But it did lead to my eventual birth by proxy of Aerys and Rhaella. Siblings and ultimately my grandparents. Funny, how things work out in the end. Of course, Rhaegar would later do the same. Set aside Elia Martell for Lyanna Stark. Am I right to assume that it was on the question to Elia’s fertility? I guess it doesn’t matter. It led to the same outcome as Maegor’s. Though the climax is different. Maegor had dragons and he still lost. It took three generations for the faith to be brought to heel. Rhaegar had his sword and was crushed at the Trident. Figuratively and literally. Now his last living child leads a mercenary band that was originated to destroy his house. His siblings live as beggars while his brother possibly succumbs to the madness and his sister lives as a dragon with clipped wings. All hail Crown Prince Rhaegar. How does that rhyme go again, Ser Arthur? Rhaegar fought valiantly. Rhaegar fought nobly. And Rhaegar died. Heh, perhaps I will die that way as well.”

Jon muttered the last bits of his speech to himself, but his eyes never left his book as he spoke. It shamed Arthur that he could not come to Rhaegar or Lyanna’s defense. No matter how true the words may be to one, Arthur would gut the individual that dared to speak of Rhaegar or Lyanna in such an impudent manner. Not their son, however.

“Your grace” Arthur said but was only met with Jon’s clicked tongue. “Commander” He corrected. Jon flipped another page but stayed silent. No mocking noises coming from his mouth.

“Commander” Arthur continued “I thought you had come to terms with your heritage. I… I did not believe you would hold any ill will towards your parents whatsoever.”

“Oh, but you are wholeheartedly correct, Ser Arthur. I have come to terms with my heritage. The logic is too great to ignore. And I hold no ill will towards my parents. However, I also am not ignorant to the repercussions of my birth or the union that led to it. My mother and father chose love and damned me to the other side of the continent because of it. I have never seen Westeros and its lands. Only have I heard stories that come out of the mouths of men that fled it. Neither has Daenerys seen it, most likely. A fault that belongs to my father as well.”

“The Princess” Arthur started weakly “she cannot move out yet with us, Jon. She does not have a firm grasp on how to ride a mount. She will not be ready for the long journey to Myr. Surely you must know that?”

Jon heard the desperation in Arthur’s voice but met his mentor’s gaze with hardened grey eyes that were very reminiscent of the smoky hue of Valyrian steel itself.

“I am aware and I can only begin to sympathize with her newfound freedom. She’s very reminiscent of a fawn, wouldn’t you say Ser Arthur? However, that is where my heartfelt feelings for her must end. She must learn to keep up with my company on the road to Myr. I cannot afford to waste anymore time, not when Viserys begins to move as well towards Braavos. Had Daenerys been wedded to Khal Drogo, I suspect that she would have ridden with the Khalasar the morn after her bedding. I believe myself to have been much kinder” Jon said with a coolness.

“Jon! It would take Viserys at least a fortnight to reach Braavos by horse. A moons time to sail towards Tyrosh with the winds at his sails! Just a few days is all I ask for the sake of the princess. It should give her enough time to accustom herself to the saddle.”

“I have already given the order” Jon replied. “When I woke this morning, I meant to march by noon’s time with a flexible schedule of an hour. My captains have been notified and move as we speak. I believe I told you to move your men so that they might make use of themselves to aid the pace of our departure.”

“You can rescind that order, Jon. You’re the commander. _You_ have the final say. The men will halt all their effort if you just give the word.”

Jon simply smiled as he closed his book and tucked it under the table. However, the dark grey eyes were steeled and unyielding as they met with Ser Arthur’s violet hues.

“Your men need their captain to help them move with haste, ser. I will not repeat myself again.”

Arthur swallowed with bitterness and a cold sweat upon his brow before bowing towards his commander.

“Of course. Commander.”

And as Arthur walked out of the tent to his duties, Jon poured himself another goblet of wine.

…

It had taken near an hour past noon until the entire camp was ready to mobilize. Jon walked alongside Asher as they made their way towards their mounts. Jon strode in his boiled leather armor with his steel sword faithfully at his hip. He hadn’t felt comfortable displaying Blackfyre in all its glory until he was sure that Viserys was traveling in the opposite direction while Jon made his way down to Myr. So, in the meantime he had asked for a scabbard meant for a bastard sword. The fit hadn’t been perfect, but it would serve its purpose until Jon had enough time to place an order for a well fitted one, along with a new pommel.

“That wife of yours looks awkward atop her mount” Asher noted.

Jon turned his gaze towards his wife in question and couldn’t help but find himself agreeing with his friend. Daenerys looked from side to side with fear in her eyes as her awkwardness translated to her white mare. The horse was as beautiful as it had looked any day but it fidgeted in its steps as it swayed side to side. Jon cursed inwardly as he hasted his steps toward his horse, Scorpion.

“Perhaps its her nerves” he muttered over to Asher.

When he had mounted the black Sand Steed, Jon slightly motioned the horse to stand by his wife’s mare.

“You know” he said, startling Daenerys as she turned her gaze to him with wide and nerved violet eyes, “it wouldn’t do good to have my wife falling off her horse the moment we’re set to leave.”

He smiled at her softly as Scorpion huffed in his place with a rigid stance. It almost made Jon laugh at the absolute stillness his horse took. Almost as if Scorpion wanted to demonstrate to Daenerys’ mare as to how a proper mount should behave.

Jon noticed that as Daenerys seemed to slightly calm in her nerves, the white mare began to subdue itself as well. Jon reached over to slowly brush the mare’s silky mane with his fingers.

“You and your mare share a special bond” he noted with a soft tone. “I can see it clearly. Should you feel calm, your mare is calm. Should you feel nervous then your mare will as well. I think you should be calm for your horse; wouldn’t you say Daenerys?”

He gave her another small smile before turning his eyes back to the silky white mane of the mare.

“Chimera” he heard her say softly.

“I’m sorry?” He asked as he turned to her.

“Her name. I named her Chimera.”

Jon smiled again as he ran his fingers through Chimera’s silky mane.

“A beautiful name. Chimera” Jon said. He turned to her with a questioning glance with as much gentleness in his eyes that he could muster. “May I ask what inspired the name?”

He could make out his wife squirming in her saddle from his peripheral vision as he rubbed the mare’s ears. He turned his gaze to her to see a slight hue of red dust her cheeks.

“I was reading one of the books you gifted me” she replied in a soft voice, “and I came upon a section about all the fabled creatures that once existed in our world. I came across the creature and was enraptured with it for a short bit.”

Jon nodded at her explanation. He was familiar with the mythological creature. If he wasn’t mistaken, then the chimera was said to be an embodiment of a female warrior with the head of a lion, the body of a goat and the tail of a draconid. The tail was supposed to be the source to the chimera’s fire breathing nature. He suspected that was the reason for Daenerys’ slight curiosity with the creature.

“It reminded me of my house” she said quietly.

“The draconid?”

“The three heads” she responded.

Now it was Jon’s turn to be curious. He was on the fringe of asking Daenerys if she read correctly as he was not aware of the chimera to possessing three heads.

“Each head was a separate being” she continued. “One of a lion, one of a goat and one of a drake. The drake was the center of the three heads and the most deadly with its fire breathing capabilities. However…I chose the name Chimera for my mare because of its tail.”

Jon looked at her with the same curiosity as before.

“Its tail?”

Daenerys nodded.

“Yes. Its tail. You named your mount ‘Scorpion’ and I read that the Chimera had the tail of a scorpion as well. Therefore, I thought it only right that as your wife I should name my mare something befitting of your mount…”

He could tell that she was embarrassed in informing him of the inspiration for Chimera’s name as her voice trailed off slightly while she deliberately failed to meet his gaze. She looked almost angelic and very much a maiden from the songs of chivalry and valor. Jon could not find it in himself to tease her or let her know that she probably had her information bungled as it was the _Manticore_ that possessed the tail of a scorpion and not the Chimera. So, he settled for a slight chuckle and smile towards Daenerys as leaned back over his own horse. He reached over to Scorpion’s ears and began to scratch them affectionately before his mood turned serious.

“It’s a long march towards Myr” he told her. He did not bother to look over to her. “The march would usually take any other band a fortnight to reach, but The Golden Company does not have such luxury. The Mammoths hold more energy than any man or horse but they also take the longest to have in formation and mobilize efficiently. Even as they possess the energy to keep moving, my men and their horses will tire with the long march. Not only physically, but mentally as well. I had hoped to stay a few days longer but recent information from your brother has hastened my schedule. I have no idea if he’s let you know, but it is paramount for me to arrive in Tyrosh with haste. That is why I have made the decision to move the company at this moment. Do you understand?”

He saw her nod once more, but Jon chose to ignore it as he turned a quizzical gaze towards her. He saw her slightly flinch at his eyes and it almost made him apologize, but he couldn’t afford her the sentiments. Not at the moment. The march would long and gruesome, especially for her. Jon planned to push his company harder than ever before and it was unfair that Daenerys should be subject to learn quickly under such conditions. But that was life, wasn’t it? It wasn’t always fair.

He held his gaze until he heard and saw a weak “yes” leave her lips. Perhaps it was cruel to torture her in such an emotional way, no matter how light, but she needed to toughen quickly. The sooner she began to speak with confidence would be for the best. For now, just hearing her voice would be enough.

“You may ride with Sevanna or you may ride at my side. It matters not to me but the decision is yours.”

Jon clicked his tongue to urge Scorpion to gallop ahead of the company. He saw his captains lined up in their usual formation with his lone spot at the head. Nithral and Lagras rode at the rear. Balaq rode with Rakharo, next in line. Ahead of the captain of archers and the captain of horses were Ser Marlon and Lysono Maar, his respective captain of coin and captain of whispers. At the head of the line of captains were his two most trusted advisors and greatest friends. His two most important captains. Asher Forrester and Ser Arthur Dayne. Asher, his captain of cavalry, rode at the left while Ser Arthur, the captain of the guard, rode on the right. A small squadron of elite knights rode behind the captains. They were the guard and under the command of Ser Arthur. Jon had found the idea of a “guard” to be unnecessary but Arthur deemed it an important precaution. Any sort of rebuttal on Jon’s end died when Sevanna took Arthur’s side.

Jon galloped to the front as he nodded towards his captains before taking position at point. He waited for a few moments before clutching the reigns tightly. However, just as Jon began to turn around towards his men, he heard the galloping of hooves to his right. He angled his head slightly, just enough to see Daenerys ride to his side.

“You chose not to ride with Sevanna?” He asked with slight surprise.

To Jon’s awareness, Daenerys had taken to Sevanna quickly and spent most of the time, that they had been married, with his adoptive mother.

“She’s with Doreah.”

“Who?”

“A friend” she replied.

Jon only nodded.

“I should ride at your side” she declared.

He looked over to her and saw defiant violet eyes looking back at him. There was a tinge of submission between them, but a fire as well. Jon could only smile at her and he felt something within him churn as her face lit slightly at him.

“Can you keep up?”

She stared at him with the same fire as a few seconds before.

“I can try.”

He looked forward to the plains of the green fields.

“Good” he replied.

Jon turned around to face his men. Not his captains, but the guard that rode behind them.

“Sound the horn!” He yelled to them. “We move now!”

The rider at the head of the squadron nodded before reaching for his horn at his side and blowing with ferocity. And just like that, The Golden Company began to move towards Myr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently writing the next chapter actually. I split the chapter at this point because I think the wait has been long enough. Next chapter is from Daenerys' side. A bit of flashback to what she was doing while Jon was planning his mobilization.


End file.
